


Beauty and the Bitch

by Badgermagic



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Disney - All Media Types, La Belle et la Bête | Beauty and the Beast (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fairy Tale Retellings, Folklore, LGBTQ Themes, No Lesbians Die, Original Fiction, Period-Typical Homophobia, lesbian beauty and the beast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29108601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badgermagic/pseuds/Badgermagic
Summary: Everyone knows the old story...but do you know why the Beast is so beastly? What on earth happened to make her so cruel?Oh yeah, that's the other thing, the Beast was never a man.  She was a princess. A princess who loved girls and anyone, who was anyone knew it...
Relationships: Beast/Beauty (Beauty and the Beast)
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Windian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windian/gifts).



Belle and The Butch

Chapter One

Once upon a time there was a princess who loved girls and anyone who was anyone knew it.

She was the most beautiful woman in all the land. It was her duty as an heir to the throne and as a woman to make a good match. So despite her reputation with the ladies, her portrait was sent to all the eligible young men of good social standing and decent fortune. Her visage reflected a demure and elegant stature, dressed in the most up to date fashion and wearing only the most luxurious of fabrics. She was tall and golden with intelligent eyes that gleamed like fresh chestnuts. A coy smile played about her lips. She was the sort of woman men fawned over and wrote sickly romantic poetry about; comparing her to spring mornings, tender roses and the untamed wilds of the countryside.

Ruled by her heart, she was prone of fits of passion and spite often in the extreme. Many a-would-be suitor left the palace insulted and angry, or else shamed and on the verge of tears, for she delighted in reading the atrocious poems out-loud for the entire court to giggle over. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when she had no time for any of them. 

She was known as the Beast.

It is a truth universally unacknowledged that reality is often a far cry from the beauty of ones portrait. That’s not to say she was ugly but that her plump lips were often turned down in disgust and her chestnut eyes were narrowed in suspicion. She was only happy when she was away from the palace and her lessons, her duties as the heir to the throne, and the endless parade of stupid, greedy men. 

A fine mist lay over the soft wet hills, obscuring the woodlands. She didn’t care that it was drizzling. The air had a wonderful earthy aroma of leaves and damp horse hair. Being around the horses, riding over the fields and through the woods, filled her heart with joy and gave her life. She patted Hornet’s smooth grey neck and watched the steam rise gently from her nostrils.

To her left was her Father, propped up proudly on his chestnut mare, Clarissa. Beside him, was her overweight Uncle Bear with his great hairy moustache. His humongous horse, Blackbeard was almost as fat as he was. He ought to go on a diet, she thought, and so should the horse. 

All hands, puffed-up cheeks and braying laughs; they were having an animated argument about a government debate. As she watched, her father tossed his curly wig indignantly, but she didn’t care enough to listen. She shifted impatiently and was contemplating taking Hornet for a quick gallop when George, her favourite cousin, came riding out of the mist. She spotted his bright red riding jacket before she saw him. 

“Finally,” she muttered. He had always been tardy with his time keeping.

“Ahoy, Father!” he called. “We need to head west. We’ll join the Astley’s and the De Winter’s at the bridge. The Viscount is leading them,” Before he finished a hunting bugle sounded some way off.  
“No Lord Bailey today?” asked Uncle Bear.

“Not this week,” her father told him. “He has personal business to attend to.”

Damn, she thought. That meant he would be at home today. She preferred it when he came out with them. That way she knew exactly where he was. He and her father could talk for hours. She gripped Hornet’s reins with her gloved hands and raced off over the hills with the wind and rain lashing at her face.

They met the Viscount, Lord De Winter, the Lady Astley and their families on the bend just beyond the bridge. Lady Astley was the only other woman who always joined the hunt without fail. While the Beast wore proper jodhpurs and rode horse-back like a man, Lady Astley was a successful matriarch with seven children; so naturally she rode side saddle and wore a forest green hunting dress. 

“You do like to give the fairer sex a bad name dear,” She stated with pursed lips.

The Beast frowned and opened her mouth to argue. 

“Fairer sex?” cut in George laughing good-naturedly. “Dear lady have you met my cousin? All Beastie’s efforts are spent dispelling our social normalities.”

“All the same, Hyacinth, you could at least try riding like a proper lady?” she drawled for the hundredth time.

“It’s as George says, I absolutely refuse to let my being a lady hold me back. And for heaven’s sake Temperance stop calling me Hyacinth.” The Beast didn’t care what any small-minded ladies said about her, even if they did like hunting. “It hardly suits me.”

They tracked the boar for two miles through the ferny forest. Twigs cracked and crunched under the horses hooves. Here, under the canopy the only signs of rain were the heavy droplets of water that dripped-dropped musically from the branches. The light filtered through the autumnal leaves, in warm splashes of orange and yellow like the last vestiges of summer. 

As they closed in on their quarry the hunt sped up. She gripped the reins tight. Back straight. Heart pounding in her chest. Her cloak whipped back in the breeze. She leaned into the rhythmic pulse of Hornet’s body. Her eyes scanned the undergrowth. She snatched a glimpse of the boar’s hairy dark body between the trees. The sight was dashed by a blur of sweating horses and a seething, barking amalgamation of dogs in pursuit of their quarry.

Soon George raised his shot gun, the boar in his sights, and fired. Not to be out done the Beast closed in on him; adrenaline like fire in her veins. Alas she couldn’t get a clear shot! He fired again. She saw the whites of the pigs eyes. A spurt of red blood against the green ferns. She cried out excitedly. The pig disappeared into the undergrowth. 

“I got it!” cried George out, as he barrelled after it. “I swear it!”

“Should have left it me,” Lady Astley told him. “You know I’m the superior shot.”

“You were leagues behind us,” The Beast snapped.

“It won’t have gone far!” panted Uncle Bear Steam billowed from his mouth. He was red faced and winded. Anyone would think he’d been the one running. “Blackbeard just needs a moment to breathe.” Poor Blackbeard was chomping at the bit, eager to continue the chase.

While the hunters spread out, searching for the wounded boar, the Beast snapped open her pocket watch and saw she was going to be late if she didn’t leave soon. The hunt had gone on for longer than she’d expected. Looking around, all she could see of the others was Blackbeard’s tail swinging in the dark between a pair of low hanging oaks. She took her chance and rode away through the trees. She didn’t get much of a head start.

“Beastie!” She heard her Father bellow. Behind her came the clatter of hooves. 

“Beastie! Where are you going?” She could hear George yelling her name. His voice was definitely closer. Bramble’s hooves were hot on her tail. “For heaven’s sake cousin!” 

“Go away!” She laughed. The branches whipped over her helmet as she kicked Hornet into a frenzy, zig-zagging through the trees.

Breaking out from between a dense pair of scratchy holly bushes, she burst into a muddy clearing and skidded through a large puddle, showering the bushes with an arc of muddy water. She paused for a moment, listening intently. The forest was silent aside from the sounds of the rain on the leaves and the gentle coo of a wood pigeon. She shook the reins and cantered off again; just to make sure they kept ahead of George. They couldn’t run the risk of letting him see where she was going even if he was her best cousin. The risk was too much. If Bianca’s Father should find out... She was on the main path way now racing towards the village. 

“Woah! There, girl there!” Hornet reared up, legs flailing. The villagers leapt out of the way.

“Watch out,” yelled the pretty ginger woman throwing an arm in front of a young girl. It was the bar maid she’d seen at the local village public house. Her name might’ve been May or Minnie something pretty like that. 

“Sorry not sorry!” The Beast yelled over her shoulder and charged on, hoping Bianca would wait for her. Racing towards a fork in the road, she took the left track and followed it around until she spotted the high brick wall of wealth through the trees. 

She tethered Hornet in the shade of a yew tree so she was out of sight from the main path. “Good girl,” she murmured, stroking her nose. “Behave while I’m gone, won’t you?”

Bianca Bailey waited by a moss covered gate in the wall. Her blonde-brown curls gleamed in the dappled light under the autumn leaves. She looked resplendent in a cream frock edged with tiny purple flowers. 

“You’re late,” she said anxiously, glancing behind her. “Come in quickly.” Bianca pecked the Beast’s cheek and pulled her inside the garden. The Beast watched her as she latched the gate carefully, and seeing her cheeks were flushed, recognised it as a sign of stress. Bianca saw her looking and turned away quickly. As the Beast followed her to their usual spot inside the maze she asked Bianca what the matter was.

“We have to start being more careful,” she answered in a low voice, in case an obscured gardener overheard them. “This morning at breakfast, my father was quizzing me again on where I go after lunch every Sunday. Apparently a 2 hour stroll is much too much for any proper young lady. He is concerned I will start to get ideas I suppose.”

Their love nest took the form of an old summer house with boarded up windows. Bianca unlocked the door and slipped into the gloom. True love smelled like ever-green bushes, potatoes and soil. The gardener’s used it as a spare shed for storing shovels and sacks of potatoes.

“Ideas? It might be a bit late for that.” The Beast pulled the door closed and kissed her neck. Bianca sighed sweetly and nuzzled into her chest. Glancing down, the Beast delighted in the plump apples of her pink cheeks and the glint of her olive green eyes. 

“It’s peculiar. Last week on the way back from seeing you, I dropped a glove and he must’ve seen the gardener returning it to me because he started asking me about him. I said I don’t know the man’s name but he’d didn’t seem convinced.”

“Ha!” barked the Beast, “He thinks you’re off cavorting with the help, and a gardener no less!”

“I’m glad you find it funny,” she said smiling in spite of herself. 

“Does he really think that little of you?”

“He must do, mustn’t he? I don’t know what he would find more scandalous; partaking in liaisons with the staff or finding out I like women?” she chuckled, kissing her lips softly.  
Folded neatly on one of the wicker chairs was a pile of chequered blankets in red and green and yellow. The Beast shook each one out and threw them on the floor. Then she laid down and held out her arms inviting Bianca to join her. 

“You’re so soft,” she murmured, “So beautiful.”

“As are you Beastie,” Bianca pecked her on her nose and took one of her her hands in her own slender delicate ones. “Have you had any more letters from that suitor recently?”

“Oh ho now! Lord Frilly-Knickers, yes”, the Beast pulled a tattered letter from inside her waistcoat. “I brought the latest one to show you.” She began to read. “It’s brilliant. Ahem – To my dearest little petal, Hyacinth,” she sniggered. “That’s not even the best bit! Listen-” She laughed so hard tears streamed from her famed chestnut eyes as she choked on her hysteria. Finally she cleared her throat. “Your skin must be like heaven to touch, as soft and silken as a babes bottom,” She howled with laughter. “I long to suckle at thy breast and praise thee as Jesus praises Mother Mary!”

She folded the letter back up and tucked in back inside her jacket. Turning swiftly back, she grinned salaciously eyeing curve of Bianca’s waist and the plumpness of her breasts for a second.

“What wonderful breasts they are,” she murmured kissing them softly. 

“It tickles!”Bianca giggled again. 

The Beast’s lips trailed across her chest, she left a trail of kisses along her neck and her jaw. Bianca raised her chin, seeking out her lips. Finally the Beast kissed her full on the mouth, in a sensuous and deep embrace. One hand entwined in Bianca’s sweet curls and the other searching under her petticoats for the curve of her thigh, the roundness of her buttocks. Their skirts hitched to around their waists, their legs entwined, locked together. The Beast nuzzled her neck, kissing her passionately.

“You’re an animal,” Bianca laughed.

“Rawr,” she growled, “Nay, I’m a beast.”

“Oh my goodness! What big teeth you have Princess!”

“All the better to eat you with!” she buried her face in her neck and kissed it again.

Suddenly the door was wretched open, exposing them to the outside world and to the iron gaze of Bianca’s Father.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The atmosphere was as thick as cold custard. The girl’s leapt away from each other, smoothing down their skirts, not daring to look at one another. 

“Get up to the house now,” The anger in Bailey’s voice was palpable.

Without a word Bianca rushed passed the Beast. Her father stepped aside to let her through. He remained there, glaring at the Beast who shuffled anxiously. He was a large towering man, yet it was rare to see this usually jovial man angry. For a change she didn’t know quite what to do. She’d known Lord Bailey her whole life; indeed Morris was best friends with her Father ever since their time in the military. In fact she could probably recite most of their war time anecdotes word for word as though they were her own. 

The two girls were born within the same year and raised as familiar as cousins; you’d have trouble finding such a pair of best friends anywhere else in the world.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” He demanded, crossing his arms over his sombre grey waistcoat. 

“I love her and she loves me.”

His cheeks turned red. 

“Does Charles know?”

“No, yes. I mean to say, Father knows I like women that’s all.” 

He turned away in disgust and marched through the maze, up past the ornate stone fountain that her parents gave the Bailey’s as a wedding present, all the way to the high-windowed manor house. He entered through the French doors to the warm and ornate glass orangery, the air perfumed by exotic plants. Their heels clicked on the tiled floor.

“What are you going to do?” the Beast demanded, beating aside the leaves of some tropical plant.

“Hyacinth, you’ve been like a daughter to me, but do remember your manners.” His shock seemed to be subsiding. Back inside the house, he slipped as easily into his role as Lord of the Manor as you would a comfortable pair of slippers. They passed a Footman in the hallway.

“Johnson, please send the entire house staff to the kitchen for a break. We need absolute privacy until we send for you.”

“Yes sir,” He spoke demurely, without hint of surprise.

They found Bianca cowering in the morning room, clutching her mother’s brocade skirts.

“Papa, please I can explain,” Bianca implored him. “Please let me explain.”

“Are you alright?” The Beast knelt beside her and took one of her hands in her own. Bianca nodded.

“Close the curtains please Mary.”

“How could you do this again?” Her mother leapt up, throwing her daughter off her. She pulled the heavy yellow curtains closed. Then she swept across the room and sat in a chair at the writing desk, clutching the ornate gold and pearl crucifix that hung round her neck. 

“We hoped you were going about with the gardener’s boy but this,” Appearing to need a moment, Morris removed his wig, looking bizarrely naked without it. His hair was short, grey and receding dramatically at the temples. He scratched his scalp distractedly. “This unnaturalness,” He turned to the Beast. “We heard about this. We just couldn’t believe it; swept it under the rug, didn’t we Mary? We simply thought it was a rumour created by envious busy-bodies at court to undermine your beauty.”

Mary nodded along with him.

“This ends here and now,” He turned to Bianca and stated it like that was the end of the matter. “We can protect you. The worst thing is you lied to us. Last time you told us that kiss meant nothing, it was just girls being girls. You were best friends you said. I trusted you and now I find you in the garden shed with your bloomers round your ankles like some common…” He blushed deeper this time. He was getting worked up and took a shuddering breath to calm himself. “The point is you lied to me.”

“That’s not the point at all –” the Beast argued.

“But Father we are best friends.” Bianca wiped her tears away and steadied her voice. She looked directly at her Father. “The best of friends. I’ve tried to do things your way, but I just can’t be with a man. I love her,” Bianca turned to her. “I love you Beastie.” It was the first time she’d confessed her love for her. She wanted to kiss her.

“You’ve never been with a man, how can you possibly know that?” Mary’s lips were pursed.

“Please Mother,” Bianca implored. “Please just listen to me.”

“Why should I listen to you, when it is clear you haven’t listened to me? You could hang for unnatural acts.” Her voice raising higher with emotion, so she closed her eyes.

“But-” Bianca began. Her mother raised a bony finger for silence. When she spoke her voice was reasonable and clear. 

“But Hyacinth would be safe. I’m sorry dear but it’s true. She’s royalty. You realise that don’t you? You are not playing with the same odds.”

“No one outside this room need know what has happened.” Morris plucked at the knees of his trousers and lowered himself onto the settee. “We can fix this quickly and discreetly; thank goodness you’re still young. We can protect you and the family name. The only answer is to send you away.”

“No, no. Papa. No one knows anything –” she gripped both of the Beast’s hands now.

“Yes. They do. The staff already have their suspicions.”

“Why should we care what the scullery maids think?” asked the Beast.

“It’s not what they think it’s what they say,” Mary explained impatiently, “It’s what they tell the maids in other houses and what the ladies maids tell their ladies. Word will get about. Mark my words.”  
“As I was saying, we separate you. It’ll dispel any and all rumours about you Bianca.” Morris looked to his wife for advice. “We could send her to my brother in Highlands?”

“After all the hard work I’ve put in preparing her for society, you want to put her out with the sheep?” Mary was aghast. 

“There’s a reason this is your realm dearest,” he conceded.

“I will write to your Aunt Catherine immediately,” Mary turned to the desk and pulling a piece of writing paper towards her. “I will let her know we accept her offer of introducing you to society in the city.”

“It’s not just a city! Its a different country,” Crying again, Bianca buried her head in the Beast’s shoulder. 

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be alright,” The Beast rubbed her arms. “It won’t be forever. I’m going to bring you back as soon as I can, I swear it. I swear on Leander’s grave.”

“It’s not usual to introduce a young lady in the winter months however needs must. She will undoubtedly help us to select a suitable match. A girl of your good-looks and breeding; You shall be married by late summer.”

“No you can’t!” the girls cried in horror, hugging each other closer.

“Yes we can,” Mary whipped back, her expression hard, “I’m your Mother and you will do as you are told.”

“I won’t do it.” Bianca jut out her jaw and the Beast felt a swell of pride for her.

“You don’t have a choice. It’s for your own good.” 

“If you love her you’ll leave now.” Morris peeled the Beast’s hands from his daughter. “You need to leave now.” Finally the Beast let go and he towered between them, using his size to block his daughter from view, he stepped towards her, forcing her back. 

“Don’t go,” Bianca sobbed, “Please don’t leave me.”

She tried to duck around him, to side step out of his way, but he only gripped her wrists and stepped forward again. His grip was gentle yet firm. Forced out of the room, he slammed the door in her face. She heard the rattle of the key in the lock.

The Beast left quickly without a single backwards glance, even though Bianca’s cries brought tears to her eyes. She strode through the garden and pulled a rude face at a gawking grounds keeper. By the time she took Hornet from her hiding place, her chest felt unbearably tight, her were hands clammy and sweat poured down her back. Her lips trembled and she had to work hard to steady them, to keep the tears at bay. This couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t be serious about sending Bianca way could they? She kicked Hornet’s sides roughly and galloped through the woods letting the branches whip her face and catch her hair. The pain was better than crying. Better than thinking about the look on Bianca’s face or the sound of her crying as she left the room. 

She was racing towards the village when she remembered the bar maid again and decided to take refuge in the pub. The village pub was a discreet little hovel, tucked under the beech trees, with a low mossy roof and tiny, dusty windows. A wooden sign hung over the dirt road had three crowns painted on it. 

She needed a drink, but more than anything she needed a break from being the princess. So she switched her sleek top hat for the scruffy tweedy flat cap that she kept in her saddle bag and took a deep breath. In incognito mode, she slipped inside the pub.

The floor was strewn with straw and the tables were sticky with sweet beer. All the villagers, milled around after a hard day working the harvest; the air was thick with sweat and voices and singing. A group of men played spoons and skiffle boards and one even had a lyre.

“Ah been out east and ah bin out west, and ah bin up north and south…!” they hollered and howled.

A drunk man propped up at one end of the bar broke the silence by yelling, “Oi lookie ‘ere. It’s the princess. Welcome to our humble abode yor majesticness!”

“Shh,” another man with a flat cap and a beer belly nudged him. “You’re not supposed to let ‘er know we knows.”

The drunk man toppled of his stool and the villagers roared with laughter. Even the Beast managed a small smile.

“Sorry we gots no fine wines here...erm squire,” crowed the barmaid. “No wines at all in fact.”

“I’ll have a pint of ale,” she said, “I don’t think much of wine myself. It’s vastly over-rated.”

The barmaid poured a tankard of ale for her from a large black leather jug and watched, eyes agog, as the Beast gulped it down in one.

“Bin havin’ a bad day has we?” She swept her ginger hair behind her ear.

“It’s taken a turn for the worse. Another.”

“Alright, squire but take it easy won’t thee?” she said gently, refilling the tankard.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Sorry I don’t be meaning to cause offence; only ah knows what it be like to drink when you feels down in the mouth. Sometimes the best thing to do is to go home.” The bar maid blushed as though she’d said too much.

“The last thing I want is to go home.”

“Beg me pardon...Why would that be?” With a look of concern, she leaned forward and dropped the pretext, speaking quietly so no one else could hear, “If me home was anythin’ like yourn ah’d never want to leave.”

“That’s the trouble...a palace isn’t home, not really.”

The maid gave her a sceptical look and went about her business.

“Pour me another will you?” she winked at the barmaid the next time she passed her.

“It do be me pleasure as always,” Blushing crimson, her eyes wide, the bar maid leaned forward to pour the ale from a barrel on the bar. Her breasts spilled over her coarse brown stays and a scrap of lace trim that frothed almost as much as the beer now foaming in the tankard. She remembered Bianca and she looked away feeling guilty.

“What’s your name?”

“Millie.”

The Beast’s cap was suddenly ripped from her head. 

“Hey, give that back,” The Beast leapt up and snatched it back as quick as a whip. Her long corn coloured hair fell in her eyes. She wedged the hat back on her head and tucked her hair securely back under it.

“We all know it’s you Princess Hyacinth.”

“She don’t be a lady!” yelled one of the musicians.

“Leave her alone John, she likes it,” said the man with the flat cap and beer belly. “Name’s Frank.” He shook her hand. He had hairy fingers and dirty nails.

“She likes dressing as a man so much maybe she ought to try it out,” John grabbed his crotch and made a rude gesture. 

“Boo – you be disturbing our merriment man!” called another musician chucking a handful of hazelnuts their way. “Leave her be.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” she told John, not in the least bit ruffled by his ungentlemanly behaviour. “Can you imagine me coming in here, fetchingly dressed in a ball gown? I think not.”

“I think not,” he imitated cruelly, “You don’t belong here.” He squared up to her, his sour breath on her face. 

She stood her ground and snarled though gritted teeth. “It’s fun. And it’s my pub.”

“Leave her alone man. She’s done thee no harm.” They both ignored Frank who was now attempting to wedge himself between them. John thrust him aside. His wiry black eyes brows almost met in the middle. They sized each other up. Man vs. Beast. 

“It’s your Dad’s land. You’s a girl, you’ve got no right.”

“Let’s not have any trouble tonight alright?” Frank gripped her wrist, he might’ve seen them ball into fists. “It’s bin a long day, tensions be high –”

“Let me show you –” she threw off Frank’s hand. She had an idea she knew John wouldn’t be able to resist; if this was the John Farrow she’d heard about at any rate. “How much fun it is!” The Beast barked, looking down her nose at him. “Sit down. I said sit down.”

With a squeal of wooden benches against the stone floor, the table wobbled and beer sloshed as the villagers made space for him at the table. John clambered awkwardly into place and demanded beer.  
“I said beer!” he yelled. Nervously Millie scurried over with a fresh tankard. He snatched it from her and drank heavily. Beer dripped down his stubbly chin and he wiped it away with the back of a densely hairy hand. 

“Millie, bring out the tiddlywinks!” She announced it loud enough for the whole pub to hear. The spoon player dropped his spoons with a clink and clatter. 

“After the fight they had last week...” he gasped. 

“Oh no m’lady.”

So, thought the Beast. This is that John Farrow.

She’d heard tell that John’s wife Annie had been in just the week before waving a frying pan and threatening to wack his behind with it if she ever caught him squandering their money on his tiddlywinks addiction ever again. 

“Why, you knows his wife did ban him from playing it?” Frank told her. 

“What she don’t knows can’t hurts her can it?” John snapped. 

“Except half the village be ‘ere.” muttered Frank. “Ol’Annie’ll know in half an hour mark my words.”

“Then the game is on,” the Beast clapped her hands and rubbed them together, “Millie, the pieces please?”

Millie nodded and left to retrieve them.

“If I win, you’re out. You get off my land and never return. You’ll be out of a house and a job. How will your wife take that?”

He grunted. “And if ah win?”

“Not a chance.” 

“They’ll be no more wagers tonight Miss,” Cogsworth, her father’s fussy head of staff appeared beside her.

“Oh bollocks to that.” Cogsworth flinched at her language. “After the day I’ve had. What do you want?” 

“It’s not what I want Princess,” he placed so much emphasise on the last word she wondered if he thought she’d forgotten her place was superior to his own measly role in the world. You don’t tell me what do to, she though furiously. “Your father expects you at home.”

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“They expect you at home now. I’m sure he will understand but alas, your Mother will not.” 

“Well she will have to wait. Mother can’t have what she wants,” she rolled her eyes and laughed, feeling the warm bravery of beer in her stomach. “It’s about time she understood that.”

“Yes, well, until you come to some kind of arrangement, it’s my job to take you home.”

“Oh fuck off you bald-patted old busybody.”

The villagers cheered and Cogsworth slithered away. Across the table John smirked again and downed his beer while they waited. She couldn’t wait to thrash him.

Millie returned with the tiddlywinks box and place it on the table between the Beast and John. Opening the little metal clasp, she lifted the lid to reveal a small wooden tumbler and a row of thin wooden coins. Half of them were painted black. Beast set the tumbler on the table between them and Frank measured the distance with his hands to make sure lady luck would favour no one. 

All the villagers on their bench watched closely as the band of merry drunks started playing again.

“So what are your terms?” She asked John. When he looked at her blankly, she said, What do you want if I win?”

“If I win. You has to do what the Queen tells you, and you has to marry this Lord Frilly-knickers you been complainin’ about so loudly.”

“Deal,” Her stomach clenched. While she conceded that he wasn’t completely stupid, she couldn’t risk losing to such a gross man. 

Millie came back around with her jug. John took another refill, but Beast placed a hand over her tankard. 

“No more for me thanks” Her thoughts were already slightly muddled. She needed a clear enough head not to lose her life to a man. The thought was a sobering tonic.  
John selected a black counter and slammed it down.

It was the most intense game of tiddlywinks she’d played in years. To begin with, of course she was winning, right up until John got lucky with a perfect score straight into the cup. That put him ahead of her by five points and she couldn’t have that. Pieces flew through the air knocking each other aside. It was time to bring out the big guns. She was attempting a particularly challenging trick shot when the village folk fell silent and Beast looked up. Everyone around her was kneeling on the floor. Then she spotted him. Her father. His pocket watch chain gleamed in the candle light and he was wafting a box of smelling salts under his nose.

“Oh no, oh no,” she muttered pulling her cap down over her face, she sunk down on the bench but it was too late. His old blue eyes lit up when they spotted her.  
“There you are! We have been looking all over for you.”

“Hello Father. Finally get sick of the old sow?”

“Don’t talk about your Mother like that.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“I’ve come to take you home. You can either come quietly with me sweetheart or...”

“Or what?” Their ultimatums were ultimately always empty.

“Well er, you see dear- You must see that this behaviour,” he vestured vaguely about. “Well it just isn’t good for business is it?”

“I see...” She picked up her tankard and drained it. She knew her Father probably meant it metaphorically but still, it stung and she wasn’t going to let it go unpunished.  
“You do? Oh good,” The poor old man looked genuinely relieved. “Business. Is that all I am to you?” 

“Oh no, it’s not like that.” He flustered, “Not at all. We shouldn’t discuss this here. Let’s speak about it at home. Quickly now before...” he took her arm gently, “Oh bugger.”

The door slammed open and in stormed a pair of soldiers. She recognised one of them from her mother’s personal guard. They were in full armour. In truth, she thought it was a bit much.  
Between them stood a large matronly woman with a warty visage.

“Princess Hyacinth we are here to escort you back to the Palace. As decreed by your mother, the Queen of our Noble Nation, we will now be your personal escort, with you at all times ensuring your safety and well-being,” She took at moment to glance disparagingly around at the grubby inhabitants. “...as you carry out your noble duties.” The dour woman clicked her fingers and the soldiers lunged forward. 

The Beast grabbed a bottle with a lit candle wedged in the end and brandished it at the nearest man. The candle fell out. The straw caught light and flames flew up between them. No matter, she smashed the bottle against the bench. Glass shot everywhere. Her chest was heaving. Her eyes streamed from the smoke. There was a door behind the bar. Could she make it? She had to try. 

The man with the spoons jumped on the flames but it was already eating an alcohol soaked table. Raised voices and smoke, people coughing, many panicked by the fire as they scurried to the exits. 

“Get out of my way,” the Beast roared. She jabbed the jagged bottled at the soldier’s face. He dodged aside and she thrust again, glancing back. Sidestepping though the gate in the bar, she was nearing the door now. She could see her freedom in the dark woods. They’d have a hard time finding her out there.

Suddenly the other soldier swooped out of the dark, grabbed the Beast around the waist and threw her over his shoulder.

“Let me down!” she yelled, punching his back with her fists, as he carried her easily through the trees, “I said put me down, man are you deaf?” 

He chuckled and simply ignored her. Infuriated, she began to scream, “Get off me. You won’t get away with this. I’ll kill you.” Spittle flew from her mouth, her face burned.  
He only laughed again.

“Don’t laugh at me. I’’ll – I’ll have you castrated,” She hit him as hard as she could, pummelling his back, ribs and head; anywhere and everywhere she could reach. Images of broken ribs flew through her mind, blood and gore. The things she’d do to him if she could! The idea of the soldier crying when she stole his manhood filled her with a kind of vengeful glee. See how he likes it; a life without power.

“What makes you think I want a brat like you?”

“You’ll never have children or pass on your name.”

“I have six brothers my lady. I’m sure they can manage.”

They were at the roadside now, the wind blew her hair into her face and mouth. She spat it out and swore loudly. He called to his fellow to open the carriage door and threw her inside. She hit her head on the edge of the seat and lay on her back for a second, breathing hard. He slammed the door without even daring to look at her. 

“I hate you. I hate all of you,” She howled.

In the end all she could do was cry helplessly into the seat. What a terrible day it had been.


	3. Chapter 3

The carriage trundled over the dry moat, pulled up through the gate house and shuddered to a standstill in the courtyard. The soldiers marched her up the wide stone steps into the castle. Most of her fight had evaporated during the journey; still she balled her fists up, ready for whatever it was her mother had to say. 

“Let. Go. Of. Me,” her voice was hoarse from all the screaming. The second they loosened their grip, she wrestled out from between them. Feeling light-headed from all the beer, she straightened up, held her head high and sauntered as purposefully as she could across the hall. Behind her she thought she heard the soldier’s laugh at her. She didn’t care about them any more and looked only for the Queen; half-expecting to see her standing on the sweeping grand staircase. 

Thankfully the cavernous room was empty, save for the dusty old portraits of her ancestors who stared disapprovingly at her from the walls. Here she was, back in her gilded cage. 

In the Queen’s absence she allowed the exhaustion to sweep over her. She stifled a yawn in her hand, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her bed and stay there forever. She could always ring the kitchen if she got hungry. The Beast turned away and made to slip upstairs via the servants passage where there was less chance of being seen. 

“Princess Hyacinth,” Warty was standing at the top of the grand stair case with a small platoon of maids trailing after her.

“What do you want?” the Beast asked glancing over her shoulder.

“Your mother will see you once you are washed and dressed appropriately,” her tone was curt and her lips were pursed as she looked the Princess up and down. “Look at the state of you; and in boy’s attire too,” she tutted. “A common girl would be arrested.”

“She’ll see me how I want to be seen,” the Beast turned too fast and swayed a little drunkenly. The guards moved towards her. “Don’t you dare come near me,” she warned them. The pair of them stopped and looked up at Warty for instructions. 

“The maids are pouring a bath for you,” she said.

“Fine,” she spat, eyeing the soldiers warily. She had no desire to be man-handled again any time soon. “Fine. I’ll take the infernal bath.”

Warty pulled the Beast’s shirt roughly over her head catching her ears. As she rubbed them better, a brunette maid with rosy cheeks attempted to loosened the cord of her trousers. Normally she didn’t mind being undressed by cute girls but she really wanted to be left alone. The Beast batted her hands away, pulled her trousers off herself and climbed into the hot water.

“You may leave,” she said splashing water at the girls. Warty sent them back in. 

“I told you to leave,” the Beast stated haughtily, pointing at the door. She watched as the brunette maid glanced apprehensively at it. Finally she stepped outside and the other two followed suit. On the other side of the door she heard Warty yelling at them to get back in there and give her a good scrub behind the ears. The door opened and the girls sidled back in looking apologetic and confused. 

“Um, sorry M’lady...” 

“Your Mother’s orders...”

This time Warty flung the door open and strode into the room, “My orders are to give you a bath. You will have a thorough wash Princess.”

“I’m eighteen, not six. I’m perfectly capable of washing myself.”

“From what I’ve heard, I thought you would enjoy being washed by pretty maids.”

“Only if they join me,” she winked at the pretty brunette just to illicit a reaction.

“Can’t we just leave her to it?” the brunette maid asked, averting her gaze and blushing deeply. The other two girls shuffled awkwardly, “We can come back and help you dress ma’am.”

Warty raised her hand as though she wanted to hit her but thought better of it. She clenched her fist and let it drop.

“Exactly – at least someone understands!” cried the Beast. 

“When I want your opinion I’ll ask for it,” Warty told the brunette maid with a bitter smile. “Now get out. They probably need serving staff downstairs anyway.” 

“Your Highness,” the maid curtseyed. They all stared as she turned on her heel and ducked out of the room.

“My God, you’re useless,” the Beast moaned. “Why did you let her go? She’s the pretty one.” 

“Fine. Fine. I shall do it myself,” Warty grabbed the sponge and reached out to touch her. 

“Oh no you don’t!” The Beast leapt away. Water slopped over the side of the bathtub and onto the carpet as she danced haphazardly across the room in the nude. If they insisted on her being here, she wasn’t going to make it easy for them. 

“Are you deaf you old hag? I’m not a child,” the Beast swung into a pirouette but the room kept spinning long after she stopped. Her stomach flipped sickeningly. She leapt at the bowl on the washstand and leaned over it for a moment. A maid approached cautiously holding a cup of water.

“False alarm,” she muttered, taking the cup and sipping from it. “If you must stay, you can scrub my back.” The Beast tossed a wet sponge at Warty’s face.

Warty scrubbed her back with the rough vigour of a scullery maid scrubbing a stone floor. 

“How’s that Princess?”

“Wonderful,” replied the Beast through gritted teeth. Under the water her fists were clenched. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing her in pain.

Warty rubbed her down vigorously with what felt like the roughest towel she could find. When the Beast couldn’t stand it any more she attempted to snatch the towel from her. Warty had surprisingly quick reflexes and doubled her grip on the towel. The Beast pulled it as hard as she could but Warty refused to let go, so they ended up in the world’s smallest game of tug, wrestling the towel between them.

“I’ll take it from here thanks,” growled the Beast. 

“It’s no trouble Princess I can finish,” said Warty in a high-pitched, falsely pleasant way. “None what-so-ever.” 

The Beast kicked her in the shins. Warty yelped and let go.

“Oh look now, you’ve only gone and hurt yourself,” the Beast smirked, daring Warty to insult her. It looked like a curse was on the tip of her tongue. Give me a reason to get you sacked, thought the Beast. 

Where ever her spite went, guilt followed close behind. She smothered it quickly, at least she could dry her hair herself now. Her bed was calling out to her, looking as cosy as a cloud. As the Beast reached for her night-shirt Warty appeared with a royal blue dinner gown.

“I think I’ll skip dinner this evening. I’m too tired and I feel out of sorts,” she yawned again for good measure. “Have something light sent up would you?”

“Your family is here. Your presence is required.”

She completely forgot George was here, with Uncle Bear and their Grandmother. She sighed. 

“Fine. I suppose it will be good to see Grandmother.”

“Arms up your Highness,” the maids pulled the royal blue satin over her head and combed her long blonde locks until they shone.

The Beast stood before the large gilded mirror and admired herself. She liked how the royal blue shade complimented her skin tone and brought out her chestnut eyes even if she was tired. She dabbed a little bit of cream under each eye to make herself look more awake. If only these damn dresses weren’t so restrictive. She pulled at the waist, attempted to loosen it a little. In her reflection Warty appeared over her shoulder. 

“What a shame for you to serve such a beautiful woman when you yourself as just so...unappealing,” she grinned, watching her reaction. Warty’s brow furrowed and her lips pressed so thin she could barely see them. 

“Your mother will see you in her chambers after dinner.”

“Are you quite sure?” she bristled. Her shoulder’s clenched.

Warty nodded.

“I haven’t been in there for years,” she admitted swallowing hard. She was so surprised she even forgot to complain that she wasn’t hungry. “Not since Leander passed away.”

*

She swept straight into the candle-lit dining room and planted a kiss on her grandmother’s soft powdery cheek. The sturdy elderly woman was dressed in her signature shade of cream. A large brass ear trumpet was wedged in one of her ears.

“Hello Grandmother.”

“Hyacinth dearest,” she shouted. Her voice was as indulgent and rich as cream. She took one of the Beast’s smooth hands briefly in her age-spotted ones. She squeezed it gently. The Beast never minded when her grandmother called her by her name. She took a seat beside her cousin George. 

“Where is that wife of yours?” uncle Bear asked her father cheekily.

A moment later, a pair of foot men gave a short fan fair on their brass trumpets. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may we proudly present her royal Majesty, the Queen.”

Grumbling, the family stood up. Uncle Bear bemoaned the pain in his knees.

In front of the fireplace a puff of sparking smoke appeared. The family leapt back though not entirely surprised. Grandmother coughed. The Beast rubbed her back gently while George poured her a glass of water. 

Within this nebular of iridescent smoke the Queen materialized like a creature at the center of her own universe. The smoke began to fall. It formed around her shoulders and solidified into a shimmering satin of a gown; complete with high fanned collar and obnoxiously puffy shoulders. Her auburn hair was piled up high with real flowers. A small white bird with black sequin eyes whistled from a perch nestled in her wig. 

“Bloody show-off,” said Grandmother in a loud and carrying whisper. Uncle Bear spat out his sherry. The Beast muffled a giggle in her sleeve while George coughed politely into a napkin. “Just because you can do magic doesn’t mean you need to whip it out for every little thing.” When no one chided her she added, “Well I mean to say it’s just a family dinner, isn’t it?”

If the Queen heard, she ignored her and offered a long hand to her husband. He kissed it graciously and led her forward. The Beast’s jaw and shoulders clenched as she approached.

“Hyacinth.”

“Hello Mother,” said the Beast stiffly.

“You’ve returned to civilization I see,” the Queen observed, looking down her nose at her. 

“If only the village was that far away.”

“We will discuss your latest excursion after dinner.”

“Yes Mother,” the Beast breathed out as the Queen swept away to take her seat at the head of the table. 

“You’re in the dog house after today then?” asked George.

“When am I not? Have you seen my glass? I don’t appear to have one.”

“This one’s mine and that’s Grandmother’s,” George shrugged, looking about.

“Where’s my glass?” she asked a passing waiter. 

“Johnson!” the Queen clicked her fingers. Her immaculate nails were painted the same shade of iridescent silver as her severe high-necked dress. Immediately a waiter presented a small crystal glass to the Beast on a silver platter. “It’s a new cabernet sauvignon from my private cellar. Since you like drinking so much I thought you might like to try a sample.”

“Are you quite sure it’s good enough for me?” the Beast smiled at the flicker of annoyance on the Queen’s face. What was she up to, giving her wine from her private cellar, after a day like today? She was clearly furious with her for spending time among the common people again, let alone flaunting her homosexuality all over the kingdom. 

The Beast sipped at the wine for something to do in between picking at the meat on her plate. She had to admit it was good. 

“Where did you get to this afternoon?” George asked her quietly and curiously. It crossed her mind to lie but she no longer had the energy for it.

“I went to see Bianca,” her throat constricted at the thought of her; her heart beat like a drum in her chest. She wondered if everyone else could hear it. 

“Met any nice young bachelors yet Hyacinth?” winked her jovial Uncle Bear from across the table. He held out his own tiny crystal glass and waited patiently for the help to fill it with sherry. When was he going to stop asking that question? The Beast swallowed the rest of the wine to give herself time to answer. She already told them she was gay.

“We are currently making arrangements with the Odiosis’s family of the Solutus Kingdom,” divulged the Queen when the Beast failed to be forthcoming. “Excellent trade routes in the East, not to mention their ties to...”

“Ah Frilly-Knickers,” George winked. 

“Yes,” the Beast watched absent-mindedly as the brunette maid from her bedroom poured garnet-coloured sherry into Uncle Bear’s glass. Suddenly it made absolute sense to marry Lord Frilly Knickers even if it was just for a quiet life. It would be so easy. She wouldn’t have to lift a finger. All she had to do was stand at the alter in the palace chapel and say I do. Her mother would fix it all up for her…

“I grew up with old Ignavus at the Prestige,” her Uncle Bear was saying, referring to his boarding school days. He took a sip of sherry and smacked his lips. “Good man. If the son is anything like him I daresay it should be rather a fitting match.”

The Beast was barely listening. It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She need not fight her mother any longer. Where was the sense it in? Why, she wouldn’t even have to sleep with the man if she didn’t want to. She could take lovers disguised as ladies maids for ever. She was royalty! She could have one for every day of the week if she so desired. No one need know…

Then the pretty brunette maid approached her with the glass decanter. She looked up, noticing for the first time that her eyes were the same shade of green as Bianca’s. The Beast flinched and dropped her glass into her own lap.

“You imbecile,” the Beast leapt up, the cold, dark alcohol spread over her skirt. “The damage is coming out of your wages.”

“Hey, now Beastie, you dropped the glass,” George chided holding a napkin out to her. When she didn’t take it he gave it to the maid. “Accidents happen.”

“Sorry,” she said to the maid. At least she snapped out of her obtuse trance. No one need know indeed! The trouble was everybody did already know. She wanted them to know she loved women. She loved Bianca. Her head felt as foggy as it did when a headache was coming on. She had drunk a lot of beer and the wine wasn’t going to help matters. Maybe her hangover was coming on early… At least she was coming back to her senses. Thank goodness the very thought of marriage seemed like madness again.

“I can’t marry a man,” she told the girl who was now dabbing at her evening gown with the napkin.

“Pardon Mi’lady?”

“What was that dear?” Uncle Bear grinned at her indulgently from between the coils of his powered wig. “You look pale; out of sorts. Georgie boy, do you have some smelling salts on you?”

“I’m not ill. I just can’t marry a man,” she said out loud. “I keep telling you all I’m –” Everyone was starring at her. The Queen’s cold eyes were fixed on her. She steadied herself and spoke quickly before she lost her nerve again. “I keep telling you I like the fairer sex. I can’t marry a man.”

“What did you say?” called her grandmother, dropping her fork to pick up her ear trumpet. She hurriedly inserted it back into her ear, “What did she say?”

“She said she can’t marry a man,” George spoke straight into grandmother’s ear trumpet.

“Hear hear,” barked the old lady. “I told you she’s not the marrying sort. She likes girls much too much for that nonsense. Everyone knows it.” 

The Queen slammed down her cutlery. All the water and sherry on the table instantly frothed and boiled. An unopened bottle of chardonnay exploded with a bang, sending its cork rocketing out of sight. Everyone moved away. In the silence the table dripped loudly. Leaning forward, the Queen’s talons clenched the wet table cloth. Her glare cut into the Beast from six feet away. When she spoke her voice was steady and clear. “You will do what I tell you is best for this Kingdom,” Leaning back, she clicked her fingers at the staff again. “Clean this up.”

“Well,” the whole room, staff and all, were starring at the Beast now. “You all know what I am –”

“I told you to clean up,” the Queen snapped at the staff. “And bring in the chocolate cake.”

“– Even if you don’t want to listen. I don’t care any more. After today the Bailey’s know it as well. In fact they are sending Bianca away to live with her aunt.”

“Morris told me he caught you together in the garden shed of all places,” interjected her father. “He has to do what’s best for Bianca.”

“Yet here we are ignoring the whole ordeal and carrying on with this nonsense, this – marriage charade like nothing’s happened.” 

“Oh no Beastie,” George groaned. “He caught you? I thought you were just friends?” 

“Look darling,” said her father. “This is exactly why you need to find a husband; we can’t be seen to place a –” he paused only to whisper, “Homosexual – on the throne. You must see how that would look? Your Mother is worried for you, we all are. And the fact remains that the realm needs a strong leader with an equally strong marriage alliance.”  
“I don’t care,” her face was burning now.

“What else are you going to do?” chuckled Uncle Bear. “Marry a woman?”

“Yes, no, I mean – Why not?” she had to get away. She strode from the room almost knocking into the servants bringing in the deserts.

“Come back here this instant,” the Queen demanded. 

“Don’t dear...just leave her be,” she heard her father say before the footman closed the door behind her. 

*

Her mother’s study had been out of bounds for years. It was where she taught her sister Leander how to perform magic. A large grey hunting dog leapt up from its spot by the fire and ran to meet the Beast the moment she stepped inside.

“Down Biscuit, down,” the Beast patted her head. There was a glass case full of jars marked with various ingredients such as bat’s wings, beetles and bezoars. A cauldron bubbled over the spitting fire. The liquid inside glowed leaf green. A large leather bound book entitled ‘Magical Ways to Make Friends and Influence People’ lay on the table.  
The Beast gave a start when she spotted the shrunken head hanging from the ceiling. It was creepy yet...mildly fascinating. It’s eyes and mouth appear to have been sewn shut with thick black thread. She poked it’s rough brown cheek with her finger causing it to spin. Had her mother always been into such bizarre knick-knacks? 

The Queen was bent over a brass telescope. The end was angled so it stuck out of the window. 

“Hello.”

The Queen didn’t answer. Instead she jotted something down on a chart held by an easel and returned the telescope. 

“So?”  
“You’re late,” the Queen asked standing up properly.

“You wanted to see me.”

“You’ve been out drinking and gambling with the commoners again.”

“Yes. You know I have,” the Beast wished she would just get to the point.

“The point is none of this is working is it?” 

Sometimes the Beast wondered if she could read her mind. 

“Between us. Nothing I do works and you don’t even bother to try,” the Queen flicked her wrist and sparks flew from her finger tips. 

“Nice party trick.”

The Queen cocked an eye brow at her. “What else do you want me to do? I’ve tried talking to you, arguing with you, compromising with you, beating you, using magic – I mean. I meant to say –” she faltered.

Between them, the cauldron hissed and popped. The Beast frowned and crossed her arms, “You’ve used magic on me?”

“Use magic on you, on my own daughter?” the Queen laughed, though her eyes remained cold and calculating. “To make you do what I want? Oh no. That would be immoral. What do you take me for?”

“You’ve tried it then?” the Beast found she wasn’t particularly surprised. Good Lord, she thought. “Is that why – Is that why you gave me wine from your ‘personal cellar’ this evening?”

“Of course darling,” she laughed, waving a hand as though it was nothing. “It was only a teensy drop of doubt potion. I simply wanted to make you a little more...compliant. 

“You poisoned me! That’s low even for you; going against the laws of your precious Coven.”

“No harm done; it refused to work. Turns out not everyone’s susceptible to magic so you can’t even get that right for me.”

“The pleasure is all mine. Now I’m going to bed,” the Beast strode back across the room.

“No, not yet,” the Queen flexed her fingers and she heard the key turn in its lock. The Beast took a deep breath.

“You know, my magic has always been more nature based,” the Queen sighed dramatically. “I can relieve a drought and feed the people...I can transform irritating Lords into billy goats if the inclination takes me, yet for the life of me I can’t get to you...at least not permanently.”

The Beast stifled a yawn and wondered how long she was going to drag this on for. Looking for a distraction, she saw the portrait of her sister Leander above the fire place. She shared their mother’s auburn hair and blue eyes. Her skin with pale and made up with chalk to emphasis her pallor. She wasn’t covered in freckles like the Beast was. On her chest rested a large shining moon opal. Biscuit, her favourite hunting dog sat at her feet. 

There were no portraits of the Beast in here. The Queen followed her gaze. They were quiet for a moment reflecting back on the happier times before Leander became ill. 

Leander was so hopeful when she took an active role as the heir to the throne. She talked passionately about feeding children, teaching them skills and helping them to better themselves. The Beast’s heart swelled with pride to hear about her plans. She wanted to use her status as a catalyst of change for the common people. 

The Beast loved the day they visited the children in the city orphanage. Seeing their thin little faces light up when Leander recited an incantation over her clasped hands. When she opened them a dozen blue butterflies burst out. All the children giggled as they took her slender hands in their own, looking for where the butterflies came from. 

“Do it again!” they cried in unison, “Again, again.”

The second time Leander showed her captivated young audience her empty palms. She clasped them in front of her chest, just below the moon opal pendant. This time she spoke the incantation and threw her arms wide. Two dozen bright pink butterflies burst into being, catching the summer sun like shards of stained glass.

When Leander was struck down with plague everything changed...The last thing the Beast needed was to think about Leander’s death after such a rotten day.

Still, she couldn’t help noticing Leander’s pendant was hanging on a stand beneath the portrait; the decorative silver pendant set with it’s large moon opal stone glowed with an internal power. The Beast remembered the late Queen Mother giving it to her on the day Leander joined the Coven.

There was a ceremony in the woods. She heard a rumour that the initiation was performed in the nude. The Beast was desperate to find out but she was kept well away it since she was not magical. Leander never confirmed or denied the rumour but she changed the subject whenever the Beast brought it up. That was proof enough.

The Queen’s mother told them the stone had magically properties which would enhance her natural magic. It would help her to perform more complex incantations or aid her when she was tired or ill. 

“You must never take it off so the bound between you grows stronger and your magic more powerful.”

As the Beast looked at the pendant it began to turn gently as in a breeze, glowing with pinks and greens and blues. She took the stone in her hand. It was surprising warm to the touch. How powerful could the stupid thing be, when it couldn’t help Leander recover from the plague? God how she missed her.

“Never, ever touch that,” barked the Queen, snatching the treasure away and returning it tenderly to its holder. “Perhaps I am a fool to think you could ever replace your sister as my heir. At least she could perform magic. She really was a most natural lady and a leader to boot.”

Not for the first time Beast wished she did have magic powers so she could curse her mother and turn her into a toad...but then she thought about her sister Leander and how quiet and shy she could be. 

“She wasn’t a natural leader,” she said. “She was crippled with anxiety. It took an awful lot of effort for her to speak to people. She had a panic attack straight after her first speech at that children’s orphanage. I was there. I held her for hours afterwards while she shook in my arms.”

“But speak to them she did. She was perfect. She would have made me a wonderful heir.” 

“Well then, what a shame it is she’s gone and you’re stuck with me.”

“No, I’m not,” the Queen laughed. “At least, not for much longer.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re getting married. The sooner, the better.”

“I said no. I told you I can’t marry a man. I’d rather die.”

“You will do as you are told for once in your life and be grateful for it,” the Queen shook her auburn curls back out of her face. She smiled again and said quiet calmly. “I have been working on your horoscope. Big changes are afoot; changes that will help you become a better person. Marriage is surely the only answer.”

“Balderdash,” she scoffed, “My horoscope, seriously Mother? Unless your magic can bring Leander back from the dead or – or change every last thing about me it’s not happening. You’re never going to be happy.”

“Oh yes I will. When you belong to Lord Tarquin Odiosis you will no longer be my problem. You shall live in the West Wing and I in the East. I’m sure I will be exceptionally bloody happy.

“In fact Lord Odiosis will be arriving in a week’s time, with his his parents Marquis Odiosis and his Marchioness, their entourage and all of their relations to celebrate your engagement. The suiting is of course lowlier than should be expected but since you will insist on putting up a fight it’s the best of a bad bunch. The following week, whether you like it or not, you will walk down the aisle, you will say the wedding vows, and next year, you will provide me with a beautiful bouncing grandchild.”

“I said no –” 

The Queen raised her palm and pinched her thumb and forefinger together. Beast felt her voice die instantly in her throat. She was mute! 

You bitch, she thought as she lunged across the room. 

Another flick of the Queen’s wrist and great vines were suddenly wrapping themselves around the Beast, pinning her arms to her sides.

I said “No!” the final word burst from her lips. Maybe her mother was right; her magic didn’t stick to her for very long. The Queen swore. Her loss of concentration caused the vines to slacken enough for the Beast to quickly wrestle an arm free. Suddenly the vines vanished altogether; fighting air she fell on her bottom. Pain shot up her spine. 

“Get out,” this time the Queen charmed the rug instead of cursing the Beast. She was pulled back so fast the pattern blurred. She was dragged away from Leander’s portrait, passed the table and Biscuit who cowered beneath it, all the way out into the hall. The door banged shut. 

She screamed at the top of her lungs. Not another door in her face! Kneeling in her finery, she punched the door again and again. There was a kind of relief in the pain that tore through her wrist and the roughness of the wood on her tender knuckles. 

There was a movement right behind her. A dumpy wide-eyed maid with a tea tray full of dirty cups was staring at her. 

“Go away,” she roared.

The woman scurried away; the tea cups clinking.

Feeling sore and exhausted she kissed her bleeding knuckles. She wanted nothing more than to bury her face in her knees. Alas what if another maid saw her? Screaming was one thing but no one was going to see her cry ever. So she swallowed down her sadness and flopped back on the rug panting hard. What now?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

What now indeed? For the next week Warty followed the Beast where ever she went. Everywhere she went the Beast was plotting her next move. 

She had thought her mother would just deal with the wedding preparations without her. Instead, the Queen had the maids wake her early each morning. Under Warty’s steely gaze they forced her into petticoats, corsets and dresses. Then Warty escorted her to the morning room to take breakfast with her mother where she talked at her about a multitude of mundane decisions. This included such riveting topics as flower arrangements, napkin folds and seating plans. 

Tuesday dawned as grey and dreary as her mood. Rain swept over the grounds in sheets. Thinking that the rain might put them off pursuing her, she made a spur of the moment a break for it. The soldiers chased her across the lawn. One of them dived at her, grabbing her legs, dragging her down into the mud. Soaking wet and covered in mud they returned to the castle with the shivering Princess wedged between them. 

Early Wednesday morning she managed to slip out to the stables while Warty was in the lavatory. She was just yards from Hornet when a stable boy whistled for help. Her own father dropped a heavy purse into his greedy little mitts as she was escorted back to her rooms. Unbeknownst to any of them she’d stuffed a change of the stable boys clothing under her skirt.

By Friday she was being tailed every where by Warty and the soldiers were alerted to stop her if they saw her alone, especially out in the grounds. She considered hiding the stables boys clothes in the grounds, but it was clear that getting away from Warty and the soldiers was now almost impossible. Warty even stood guard outside the privvy. 

Her room was still private. She pulled the drapes to conceal her exit and slipped out of the large window behind the full length mirror. There was a wide area here that ran all the way around the tower like her own secret balcony. 

She used to sneak out to visit Bianca by climbing over the parapets here. It worked like a treat, though she had to be careful not to fall to her death. For the taste of Bianca’s kisses it was worth it. Climbing between the first and ground floors was the most perilous part. There were long stretches between the window ledges and a lack of gargoyles to step on. In fact, one day she did fall from there. Luckily she landed in the bushes rather than the horse yard six foot away. Covered in scratches there were sharp pains in her ankles. When she tried to stand white hot pain shot up one leg like a musket ball. She gasped sharply and sat down. When she realised she couldn’t put any weight on her foot she knew this was an injury she couldn’t hide from her parents. 

And so her mother had erected a black metal fence between the ledge and the gutter. It looked decorative enough yet each prong with tipped with a sharp iron arrow. They were taller than she was. Even a year on she couldn’t reach the cross bar. Even if she could climb over the fence, she would have no choice but to jump down into the narrow gutter. If she so much as wobbled her body weight would send her toppling over the side of the building. 

She gripped the bars and watched the pink sunset slink away over the horizon. The black night closed in around her. There had to be a way out.

After the seventh day of being coerced into making pointless choices for the stupid wedding, she grabbed a pair of scissors from her dusty sewing box. She pulled the intricate plaits out of her hair and hacked it all off so it fell it blond curls all around her. Lying on the floor it looked as light and innocent as a child’s hair.

In the morning the maids raised their eye brows and said nothing. At breakfast the Queen took one look at her. She lowered her toast and simply said, “It’ll grow back.”

The first week had flown by and still she had no plan. 

“Hyacinth, what is the matter with you?” the Queen face demanded, snapping her fingers in her daughter’s face. 

You won’t make it, she brushed the negative voice aside. She was devious and she knew every inch of the castle, of course she’d make it. No doubt about it. But you don’t have a plan, pointed out her inner saboteur. Frilly-Knickers was due to arrive in a week for the engagement part. She still had a week left to formulate her escape.

“Nothing,” she said disdainfully. She stretched out her arms and yawned over-dramatically, “You’re just boring.”

“Well you don’t have to put up with me for much longer,” she was surveying her daughter from over the rim of her coffee cup. “Cover your mouth when you yawn.”

“Now,” she perused the list beside her, “you will need a proper ladies maid.”

“A ladies maid,” she perked up ever so slightly. “Yes I will, won’t I?” Now this was something she couldn’t help but get on board with. “I want the girl with the brown hair and green eyes.”  
“What’s her name?”

“Um,” she couldn’t remember. “How should I know her name?” she turned to Warty who was standing beside the door. “You know her. She helps bathe me. The girl you...,” she was going to say ‘the girl you argued with,’ but thought better of it. She didn’t want to tell her mother the maid spoke back to Warty. It might make the girl sound insolent, and if her mother thought she was insolent she would never allow the promotion. “...You sent to serve dinner when Grandmother was here.”

“Yes your highness,” Warty’s expression was plain and unreadable. She would make an excellent poker player. “Her name is Lilly.”

A pretty name for a pretty servant.

“Fetch her will you?” asked the Queen. Warty curtsied and left the room. “Lilly. What a tawdry, vulgar name. You will need to change it. May I suggest Jane or Mary.”

Lilly walked into the room with her head down and her hands folded in front of her.

“How long have you worked here?”

“Almost two years your Majesty,” she spoke to the carpet like a perfectly well-behaved servant.

“What of your parentage?”

“They was a shoe maker and a house wife your Majesty.” 

“They were,” the Queen corrected her, “they were a shoe maker and a house wife.” She turned the to Beast, "as you are undoubtedly aware proper Ladies Maids usually have a higher social standing than Tradesmen's daughters.” 

Lilly glanced up, her mouth forming an ‘O’ of surprise. When the Beast addressed her, her expression smoothed over like a waxwork. She quickly looked at the floor again.

“You will start work as my Ladies Maid tomorrow.”

The Queen pursed her lips and made a disapproving sound in the back of her throat.

“You will begin by lighting the fire in my room at first light tomorrow morning. I look forward to getting to know you,” She really is pretty, thought the Beast. She sighed redundantly. There was one week left in her cage; while she was stuck she might as well make the most of it.

“Thanks your Highest. I don’t know what to say, ‘cept it’s an honour,” Lilly smiled.

“You’re welcome. You may go now.”

The second the door close behind her the Queen said, “fancy a wager? She’ll last a week.” 

“You’re just annoyed she isn’t one of your minions.”

“Perhaps,” the Queen watched her over the rim of her teacup. 

*

The following day was a long one, spent smoking, drinking tea and arguing with the Queen about whether or not they even needed a seating plan for the wedding. Of course the Beast insisted they did not. Eventually she escaped back up to her room. She flopped on her bed, sinking into the feather mattress and snuggled up to a cloud-like pillow. Then feeling restless, she threw it aside and leapt up to pace the room.

“I need a smoke,” she muttered to herself, looking about, she tapped her pockets searching for her pipe. “Lilly, have you seen my tobacco?”

The maid took the tobacco tin from the mantle piece and handed it to her. The Beast took out a long delicate pipe and began to fill. She tapped the tobacco down carefully and lit it. Inhaling the smoke calmed her nerves. The light-headed feeling was intoxicating. 

The Beast’s bedroom was a tower room with a high vaulted ceiling, decorated with swirls of white plaster featuring roses and cherubs. Every spare inch of wall was painted yellow with an intricate design of pink roses and blue violets. The tall arched windows provided a birds eye view of the surrounding country side including the woods. The woods where she hid Hornet just yesterday. She could almost make out the roof tops of the Baileys manor. 

“It’s a beautiful view your highness,” Lilly said, was standing by her rose mailing piano.

“How long did you say you’ve been a maid for?” She spoke with the pipe between her lips.

“Two years.”

“And what would you rather be? If you could be anything? Anything in the whole world?”

“Being a maid isn’t all bad your Highness,” Lilly seemed startled at the question and answered slowly. “I am glad there isn’t half as much pressure on me as there is on you to make a match.” 

“You’re right there isn’t.” 

“All the same, I think all women feel this way from one time to another.”

“I’m not like other women,” the Beast snapped.

“Sorry Ma’am,” 

“Don’t sorry Ma’am me. I’m not my mother.” 

“Sorry your Highness.”

They were quiet for a moment. The Beast looked longingly out of the window, in the direction of the Baileys home. She hoped Bianca was alright.

“Are you alright your Highness?” Lilly peered into her face with those big green eyes.

It was a moment of weakness. The Beast took one of the girl’s rough hands. It was small yet calloused from cleaning bed chambers and bathing certain ill-tempered Princesses. In comparison, the Beast’s hands were wide and soft. Her long fingers were perfect for playing the piano.

That simple action, of holding hands and being so close with someone again, stirred something in the Beast. It felt so nice, so comforting. Despite her sadness, she longed to feel loved again. Her eyes were as green as Bianca’s. The Beast leaned in to kiss her –

“No,” Lilly pushed her away.

“Oh Lord.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you your Highness. I panicked –”

“What? No, what was I thinking!” 

They were on either sides of the room now, the piano between them. The Beast pacing. She felt terrible, especially when she saw the maid clutching her skirts. She said, “I won’t tell anyone.”

The maid bit her lip and didn’t say anything.

All the village folk love it when they hand out gold coins at Christmas, she thought.

“Here, let me make it up to you,” the Beast shook some money from her coin purse and held it out to her. “Buy yourself something nice.”

“Thank you Princess.”

“Now boil some water for my bath would you?” 

*

The night before the engagement party her frustration was so intense it made it hard to think straight. She still didn’t have a plan. It occurred to the Beast she might need help; the help of someone who could move about the castle without being followed. She despised the idea of asking for help but even she had to admit she was in a tight spot. Time was running out. The trouble here was that most of the servants were under her mother’s thumb. Everyone that was except for Lilly. And the Beast had promoted her. Maybe she could be persuaded to help a Princess out in her time of need.  
Lilly was helping the Beast get ready for bed when Warty excused herself to use the privvy.

The Beast sat at the dressing table and twisted her hands in front of her. In the mirror, she watched Lilly run the brush through her hair. Just stop being so proud and ask for her help. Warty will be back any moment. You can’t do it without her, she berated herself. Urg, you’re useless. Just swallow your pride and get on with it girl...But how?

“I can’t get married.”

“Women kiss other women all the time. They still marry men.”

“I think you added two plus two and got five.”

“Not at all. It’s how the world is. My mother –”

“Your mother –” the Beast began to retort, thinking her mother was a blistering know-it-all and Lilly an insufferable Mother’s girl. She stopped and reminded herself she needed her help. It wouldn’t do to argue right now. There was a noise outside; the creak of a floor board. Was Warty on her way back already? “Sounds like a saint,” she smiled for good measure, “what would she advise me to do?”  
“I don’t know...I was just going to say my mother is always kissing and cuddling her maid.”

“She does?” asked the Beast taken aback. She turned abruptly to face her. “Do tell me more, how long has she being doing that?"

“Oh years and years. As long as I can remember.”

“What does your father do about it?”

“Father simply ignores it. I think he loves her at least more than it would cost to him divorce her. Men might have money but he needs his martial status for the business. The shame might kill him.”  
“You might be right. Look. I need your help. I can’t get through this week without at least trying to get away. Can you help me?”

“I can try,” she looked excited, “what do you need?”

“I’m going to need one of your dresses. I need to get away as soon as possible. I think the best time to do it will be during the ruck-ass tomorrow; I shall get dressed up like a maid, and give my Mother the slip while the guests are arriving and all the staff are pre-occupied. What do you think?”

“Whatever you think is best Ma’am...though I wouldn’t want to cause trouble...or...” Lilly looked away and twisted her hands together nervously.

“Or what?”

“Or to be blamed when the Queen discovers you’ve escaped. Besides, I only have two dresses. How do I explain where the other one has gone if you’re wearing it?”

“Just buy yourself another,” she took at coin from her pocket and gave it to her. “As for the blame. Wake me up when you light my fire in the morning and then you can go about your day as normal. All you need to do is leave your dress out in your room. I’m sure I can manage.”

*

The day of the engagement party had dawned, grey and cold. Damn Lilly. She was meant to wake her up. There was a fire in the grate. At the open window she could taste rain on the air.  
Peering down through the bars she could see the first guests arriving in the court yard. She could see the tops of their hats and hear the braying of horses, the hooves and carriage wheels grinding on the stone and shouts from the footmen. The voices were all raised and excitable. Everyone was looking forward to the engagement party that evening. 

She might have overslept yet there was no need to panic. If she dressed correctly and carried herself with purpose no one would notice just another servant leaving the gates.

Inside Lilly’s tiny adjoining room was a neatly-made bed with home-made quilt. Opening the wardrobe, she took out the single plain grey dress that lacked any of the ribbons, or lace she was used to on her own gowns. She tightened the lacings as best she could on her own. Finally she bent down at the heath and smeared a little bit of ash across her cheeks. 

The Beast marched back into her room and looked at herself briefly in the mirror. Perfect. She could easily pass for a commoner now. She grabbed her bag and perched on the edge of her bed to make sure she had everything she might need. Money, fresh underwear, hairbrush, a flask full of beer and that change of boy’s clothes she’d given up on trying to hide in the grounds. Finally, she was ready. It was time to go. It was time to leave this all behind and find somewhere she belonged. 

In the hallway the long carpet stretched ahead. Everybody must be downstairs preparing for the engagement party. She hurried along the hall to the servants stairwell and following the narrow spiral downwards. She felt excited now; escaping might be easy after all. Halfway down, she heard someone approach and reminded herself to act naturally. She was a servant; she was meant to be here. 

“Morning,” the lad smiled and continued on his way.

“Morning,” She was so good at disguises! Bolstered, she hurried on, following the servants stairs down to the main part of the palace.

Behind the scenes the palace was heaving with action. This hall was as long as the one above, though the stone walls weren’t plastered and the wooden floor not carpeted. A boy sat on a bench in a nook polishing a pile of boots. The enticing smells of freshly baked bread and roasted meats wafted from the entrance to the kitchens. The cooks were yelling at one another. In the hot damp scullery, girls washed piles of bone china plates. She passed through this underground hive of activity and out into the vast bright dining room. Footmen were setting up tables while maids pressed napkins and table cloths. A laughing troop of maids passed through carrying large floral displays; the Beast was thinking she would tag along behind them, hoping to be unseen in the crowd when –

“Don’t just stand there – help!” a frumpy maid with dark hair shoved a battered wooden box into her arms. “Silverware needs polishing. Go on, go on. You can do it on that table there look. You do start an’ I shall be back in a moment,” she disappeared into the crowd and left the Beast to it. The Beast noticed pair of maids folding napkins on the next table over. They looked away smirking when she looked at them.

Polish? How was she meant to polish cutlery? Remembering the boy polishing the boots in the hallway, she ran back down the hall. The boot boy was hunched over, profusely rubbing the toe of a brown leather boot. Beside him on the bench was a large round tin of black boot polish. She grabbed it without asking. 

“Oi, give me that back!”

“I need it,” she told him. 

He frowned at her and said, “fine. Just be sure to give it back.”

As she strode away she thought she heard him chuckle. Servants were peculiar.

She shook out a piece of cloth and dabbed it in the greasy black polish. She picked up a fork and rubbed it a little bit, turning the silver black. She kept rubbing hoping it would get better, but the more she rubbed the worse it got. She tried it on a knife instead. Maybe once you rinsed the polish off the silver would shine?

The girls folding napkins tittered. The Beast ignored them. 

The dark haired maid returned aghast, “What ‘ave ye done? Look at the state of it!” 

The cutlery, table and her fingers were smeared in thick black polish. 

“Do that be boot polish?” she laughed. “You had best go. Cogsworth needs the hearths cleaned. That chimney sweep dun’half make a mess. Go on, go on. We all knows how he be about the blessed time.”

There was no way she was going to get down on her knees to clean a fire place if she could help it. If she could just slip out unseen and get to the stables...Hornet would have her out of here in no time. She half way across the entrance hall when Cogsworth, her father’s butler stepped into her path, tucking his pocket watch back into his black waistcoat.

“About time. Mrs Potts told me to expect someone five minutes ago,” he took her by her elbow and steered her pass the grand staircase into the games room. His little heels clicked on the wooden floor. She opened her mouth but he said, “I won’t have none of your talking back. You maid’s are all the same...trying to convince me the clocks are wrong. Ha, well I’ve got news for you. I’ll be going through all seven hundred rooms myself this evening. We will have this place running with military precision if its the last thing I do. Now then, we need this fireplace cleaned. If there is time, you’ll need to do the one next door as well,” as he spoke he opened the double doors to the adjoining smoking room. “Everything you need is there – Chop, chop,” he waved his hands, shooing her towards the fireplace. “I’ll be outside if you need me. Right out here,” he grinned and shut the door behind him.

The Beast strode between a pair of billiard tables and shook the handles of the French doors that led out onto the terrace. Alas, they were locked. She could just about see the wall surrounding the stables. It was starting to rain. Perhaps if she cleaned the fireplace she could slip out the door while he checked her work? 

Standing behind the door someone had left a bucket of grubby water. If Cogsworth wanted the fireplace washed, then that’s what he’d get. She poured the water over the marble surface and flooded the green hearth rug. Whoops. There was a brush on the hearth rug so she began sweeping the wet ashes together but they stuck to the brush and stained the creamy marble black.

“Oh good Lord,” she laughed. What a mess she had made! There was more to this cleaning business than she accredited. Cogsworth was in for a shock. She quickly gave it up as a bad job.  
Enough of this nonsense, she thought, it’s high time I left. 

She dried her hands on her grey skirt leaving black smudges there and gently opened the door. She peeked out. Cogsworth had gone. Ahead of her the main entrance was open. She could see the court yard; another carriage swayed there, dispersing another set of guests. 

Keep your head down and walk with purpose, she told herself. You’re just another maid. 

“There you are Hyacinth,” the Queen stepped in her path, waving a couple of large metal rings. “Shall we use the silver napkin rings or the gold?” 

“Sorry your Majesty, ah knows not what ye mean,” she told her, doing her best impression of Mrs Potts.

“This is all very amusing dear, but really we must get on.” 

Behind the Queen, Hyacinth saw Cogsworth peering around the Queen’s huge poofy purple shoulders. Next to him, looking flushed and awkward was Lilly.

“You told her it was me? How did you know?”

The Queen laughed, “Do you honestly think anyone moves a muscle around here without my knowledge? You’re as bad at disguises as you are acting darling. Look at the state of you. You cut your hair off and you’re not wearing a cap. Not to mention Cogsworth would never let one of my girls be seen with ash on her face.”

The Beast rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand and crinkled her nose. It smelt like boot polish and dirty water. Maybe she had overdone it a bit.

“Now I believe thanks are in order,” said the Queen smugly. “Lilly, come here girl. This is for a job well done.” Lilly reluctantly stepped forward, avoiding the Beast’s stare. From within the folds of her purple skirt the Queen pulled a simple coin purse and handed it to Lilly. 

Too furious and disappointed to even speak, the Beast bit her lip and turned away. This was exactly why you should never trust anyone but yourself, she thought bitterly. Especially not after a fortnight. She knew it has been a bad idea, yet she did it anyway. They’re either useless and unworthy of your time, or they betray you. To think she actually liked Lilly only made it hurt all the more. 

The Queen wrapped her arm around her waist, steering her across the hall for the second time that day, “did you really think we’d let you get away so easily?”

“How could you? I thought Lilly –”

“Was your friend? I’m sure you did. You certainly have a type, don’t you?” the Queen chucked and steered her up the stairs. “It was easy really. I knew you’d pick Lilly to be your ladies maid on account of her assets…,” she cleared her throat. “My staff are loyal to me so I simply tasked Lilly with telling me your plans. 

“Now I’ve conjured up a beautiful wig to hid this ghastly hair cut. I want to see how it fits.”

*

The second the Beast could get away from the Queen, from everyone, she shut herself in her room. She lay on the bed and stared at the stupid cherubs on the ceiling. She threw a feather pillow at their vapid smiles. It hit her in the face on the way down and she took a feather to an eye. With one eye streaming she swore profusely. 

Father came to visit her sometime after lunch. The frumpy old maid who made the Beast polish the cutlery followed him in. She set a tray of sandwiches and a pot of tea on the dressing table.

“Thank you Mrs Potts.” 

She curtseyed and left the room. 

“Hyacinth dear,” he simpered. The Beast rolled away from him. “I am sorry about all this but it’s for your own good. I’m going to have to lock you in,” He bent down and planted a wet whiskery kiss on her cheek. She brushed it away.

“Get out.”

She heard him open the door, “your mother loves you, you know.”

“Ha. I find that hard to believe.”

He stood there for a moment longer. She heard him sigh, “she really does. We both do.”

“Father! Wait,” she sat up. “How’s Bianca?”

“She’s as well as can be expected.”

“And what about Morris? Are they still furious with me?”

“No, no, they’re not angry with you at all...they just have to do what is best for Bianca.”

“I’m never going to see her again am I?”

“I’m sorry. You’re so much like your Mother you know. Both of you struggle to hear the word no.”

Then the door closed and locked it behind him.

“I’m nothing like her,” she grumbled at the empty room. 

She swung her legs off the bed and slipped behind the mirror and out onto the roof. 

The clouds were billowy. She sat with her back against a cool glass window for most of the afternoon; watching the clouds change shape and the birds rise and fall in the trees surrounding the palace. While she sat there she dreamed about the future. She dreamed of a future in which she was free to marry a woman. A future where she was free to find Bianca and bring her home to live with her where she belonged. She dreamed they were dressed in their finest gowns, saying the marriage vows in front of all their friends and family.


	5. Chapter 5

The pale pink satin was pleasantly soft. It shimmered gently at her touch and flowed through her hands like water. The bodice was a fuss of fine lace and shimmering pearls. 

“I picked it out just for you,” the Queen told her. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

“It’s alright I suppose.”

“Do you hear this Mrs Hopkirk?” she addressed Warty directly. “My daughter has no gratitude and certainly no taste.”

"Yes Ma'am."

“I just wouldn’t have chosen pink. Can’t you change it?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you have magic?”

The maids were pulling at the strings of her whale bone corset.

“Absolutely not. Tighter,” the Queen demanded, watching the maids from a gilded chair.

“No. It’s choking me as it is!” gasped the Beast. 

“Tighter.” The maids tightened the corset immediately.

Stepping into the pleats of the skirt felt like sinking into a warm bath. This life of luxury was deceptive like that. Not a moment later the weight of the skirt was like a bolder weighing her down.  
The Beast was gasping for air, choking, confined, drowning in pink satin. Warty fitted the fashionable white wig to her head, thrusting pins into her scalp to keep it in place.  
“Ouch,” cried the Beast.

“Keep still your Highness,” she mumbled with pins waggling from her lips.

The Queen cast a spell, decorating the wig with flowers and live butterflies, “Perfection. Take a look.”

She pulled the Beast in front of the mirror, “well?”

She looked pale under the awful white wig. Without her warm blond hair, she might as well be looking at a sickly stranger. Iridescent crystals glittered at her neckline. It was the heaviest, most extravagant dress she’d ever worn. 

“I look like you.”

“Precisely. As I said, perfection,” the Queen marched her out of the room. They didn’t speak again until they were near the top of the grand stair case. “Now behave yourself Hyacinth. I will make my entrance in a moment.” 

The weight of her arm on the Beast’s vanished as the Queen disappeared. The footmen blew their trumpets and Cogsworth announced her. She rushed down the stairs as fast as she could without tripping on her skirts. She knew she was meant to descend slowly and demurely to give the crowd time to judge her but it couldn’t be helped. Everyone was starring at her. She didn’t look like herself, and the weight of the wig hurt her neck. Cogsworth smirked as she passed him.

“Your Highness,” he bowed. 

The entire room looked up at her, admiring her gown no doubt. She gave a tight smile and a wave.

“I wonder what the Queen will be wearing?” she heard a lady ask.

“Smile my little Beastie, it’s not so bad,” chided Uncle Bear, lunging over with another tiny glass of sherry pinched between his sausage-like fingers. He looked at her indulgently as though she was a small child who’d had their toys taken away for bad behaviour. He was done up like a prize pig in a tight copper-coloured waist coat with pink circles painted on his cheeks. All he needed was an apple in his mouth.

“Leave me alone,” she hissed and shook him off. She hated the lot of them.

The footmen gave the Queen’s royal fan-fair on their trumpets.

“Her royal Majesty, Queen Demelza the first.”

The room was plunged into darkness. Ladies gasped. There was the tinkle of broken glass and a sharp ‘ow’ from somewhere behind the Beast, followed immediately by hushed apologies.

Angels began to sing. A spot light lit up the ceiling revealing the singing cherubs painted there. Another spot light fell upon the throne at the head of the room. Except the throne had been replaced by a live orchestra. A live orchestra that was playing itself. A bass swayed gently as it’s bow glided over its strings and violins floated in the air, conjuring up a slew images, snow dusted mountains, swaying golden crops in brisk sea breezes, an abundance of summer flowers blooming. The image of Leander appeared magically before the audience. She was floated in mid-air. She was dressed all in pink and as they watched a scene formed around her. She was taking tea on the veranda in the company of her gentleman. He bent down on one knee and seemed to be proposing to her.

The Queen’s husky voice rang out all around them, “First there came Leander, beautiful and fair, the heir of our proud nation. She was on the path to greatness and on her shoulder’s our great kingdom was sure to flourish. When she fell ill with the plague, we hoped against all the odds that something could be done to save her…”

The scene changed. Leader was attending court in this very room. It was the horrible day she collapsed. Doctors were rushed in to attend to her. It was too late. A doctor pulled a bed sheet over her face while the Queen sat beside her in a black veil.

“Just two short years ago she was taken prematurely to the Kingdom of Heaven. We were left broken hearted –” the Queen’s voice cracked. She paused to clear her throat politely. 

A figure of a woman floated down over this tragic scene from the ceiling with her arms outstretched. She was made entirely of light and was almost-blinding to behold. The Beast shielded her eyes as several guests gasped in awe. She took the body of Leander in her arms.

Then with false cheeriness the Queen’s voice continued, “But no matter, now we shall have our little Princess Hyacinth at the helm. She will undoubtedly apply her own methods of leadership to her role as heir, and try her utmost to support the kingdom to the best of her non-magic ability.”

The image of Leander burst into thousands of multi-coloured butterflies. The lady of light raised her arms and the butterflies landed on them, covering her arms and bodice and legs. Before they knew it, the Queen was standing before her court, dressed in a gown of live butterflies. The wings rose and fell in unison. It had to be the freakiest thing the Beast had ever seen her in.

The crowd gasped in awe again and clapped loudly.

“So without further ado, I would like to take this moment to welcome one and all to the engagement party of our dear Hyacinth.” A spot light now fell over Hyacinth, who curtseyed awkwardly.  
“I’m sure you’ll all agree she looks resplendent in the dress Leander would have worn to her own engagement party.”

This dress was meant for Leander? Fury bubbled in the Beast’s stomach. She clutched at one side of the wig. Feeling the beat of a butterflies wings against her fingers she pulled it out, crushing it. A muttering rose from the crowd like a swarm of angry bees. An elderly couple near the Beast scowled at her and shifted away. 

“I didn’t know!” she hissed at them. “I didn’t know,” she threw the twitching butterfly on the ground and pushed through the crowd. She would go upstairs and get changed but Warty and Cogsworth were guarding the doors. She couldn’t bare explaining herself to them right now. 

She wanted a smoke. Thankfully she’d thought to stash her pipe in her bosom. God this crowd was a pain. 

“Excuse me,” seeing who the voice belonged to the crowd parted easily. They all eyed her warily as if hoping she wouldn’t address them directly.  
As she passed she caught snippets of conversation.

“The audacity –"

“What a spoilt brat –”

“She’ll never have Leander’s appeal –”

“Hope she catches the plague from it –” 

“I hear his Lordship is queer too,” the Beast over-heard Lady Astley gossiping with one of her many skinny daughters. “They ought to have a lot in common.”

“The nerve of her to wear Princess Leander’s dress,” spat the skinny girl. The lower half of her face was obscured by a large fan. Her eyes widened at the Beast’s approach. She nudged her mother.  
“Hello Temperance, ’tis such a shame you don’t have half as much in common with your own husband.”

“Congratulations on your engagement Princess,” said Lady Astley stiffly. “This is my eldest, Miss Cassandra Astley.” 

“Charmed to meet you,” the Beast said as she took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and downed it in one. Lady Astley exchanged a ‘told you so’ sort of look with her blushing daughter.

“Lady Beaumont, what a pleasant surprise,” Lady Astley welcomed a passing lady and her escort into the conversation and the Beast found herself shunned.

The Beast switched the empty glass for a full one. This time she took a sip of the sweet bubbly champagne and savoured it. At least she could drink the good stuff while she waited for her life to end.

“Are the men at the tables yet?” she interjected.

“No gambling until after dinner,” Lady Astley looked down her nose at her. “You know that.”

Lady Beaumont and Miss Astley held their fans in front of their faces. Their eyes were cast down. Clearly the Beast’s presence was not welcome here. Not matter, she had better things to do.

“Have you seen my Grandmother, or perhaps my cousin George?”

All three ladies shook their heads.

Finally a pair of footmen dressed in royal blue gave a short fan fair on their trumpets. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen dinner is served,” Cogsworth stepped forward. He opened the doors revealing long tables that groaned under platters of roasts meats, breads, cheeses, pies, fruit and the Beast favourite, sugar sculptures. 

“Hyacinth darling, there you are,” smiled her Mother indulgently, placing a be-jewelled hand on her arm, “I thought you might have run away again. This is Lord Odiosis, your betrothed.” 

Her betrothed was a tall, lean man dressed head to toe in pale green satin with a silver brocade waistcoat and fashionably large calves. A long dark wig of cork screw curls adored his head. His face was fashionably chalked and a beauty spot sat beside his puckered lips. He was a sight for sore eyes that much was certain.

“Please call me Tarquin,” he drawled as he took her hand in his and kissed it. “Tell me Hyacinth, what pursuits do you enjoy most?”

“Kissing girls.”

The butterflies on the Queens dress flapping angrily.

He looked shocked if only for a moment and laughing said, “Ho, ho! My, they told me you had a wicked sense of humour!”

She turned and marched into the banquet hall.

“Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen…I can’t tell you how pleased I am to have you all here in my home...” The Beast looked absent-mindedly at the guests as her father settled into his usual speech patter.  
Cousin George met her eye and mouthed, ‘are you okay?’  
She nodded and fixed a smile to her face, but it felt as stretched and unnatural as a mask. Her mouth was too wide, her eyes too small.  
George tilted his own chin up with his fore finger and smiled. The message was clear. Keep your chin up. Then he shook his dark blonde hair from his eyes and raised a glass to her.  
Beside him, her grandmother’s head nodded gently on her chest. Her giant brass ear trumpet lolled limply in her hand. It looked like it might clatter onto the table at any moment. At least she wasn’t the only one not paying attention... When a smattering of polite laughter rose swept over the audience she looked up at her father.

“I believe we can all agree it is high time my daughter found a husband to settle down with and I am certain Tarquin will be a good man; the sort of man to make an honest woman of her. To my daughter,” he raised his glass in a toast and the guests all followed suit. 

How dare he? How on earth could marriage to a man ever hope to make an honest women of her? She tried her best to keep her emotions from her face in front of everyone she knew. Her hands were balled up in her silky lap. She resisted the urge to slam both fists down onto the table by folding her arms tightly across her chest.  
Her Father finished the speech with another toast to the engagement and everyone except the Beast clapped politely.

“I must say that was a fine speech,” Tarquin simpered, leaning across her. 

“Do you mind?” the Beast rolled her eyes. “I’d like to eat.”

“I hope to become even half as talented an orator as you Father, may I call you Father?” 

“What a sycophant,” she grumbled. 

“Pardon?” he asked her. 

“Succulent beef,” she shrugged. 

She was grateful when her father said, “Let’s stick to your Majesty for the time being son.” 

She picked at the food placed in front of her, barely tasting anything.

Soon after the men excused themselves to drink whiskey, smoke and play billiards or card games while the women retired to the day room and hot house to gossip and play parlour games.  
Excellent she thought. Now she could have some fun.

The Beast reached the wide open door of the smoking room and was about to enter it’s dark smoky depths when she heard her father talking about her.  
“I must warn you she is the wilful sort.”

“Oh a wild woman,” scoffed Frilly-Knickers. The Beast peeked around the door frame, to see him rubbing his hands together, “my favourite. I’ve tamed many a wild filly.”

His coiffed friends nodded and grinned.  
The Beast rolled her eyes. How dare he talk about her like that? How dare her father talk about her to this awful pillock behind her back? 

“Tark’ loves a challenge,” drawled the boy in blue.

Oh, he does, does he? she thought, We’ll see about that.

“Indubitably. It’s his most favoured past time,” agreed a round-faced fellow in peach lace.

“I only mean to press on you not to get your hopes up. She has indeed dashed the designs of many eligible young bachelors this last few months.”

“Ah but this is the Queen’s arrangement now isn’t it? I heard she overruled Hyacinth’s say in the matter.” 

How did he know their private affairs? Feeling angry and bitterly betrayed she turned away. She really did need a smoke now.  
Rather than take the short cut onto the veranda past the gossiping men in the smoking room; she took the long way through the ladies sitting room.  
In this bright room, it was only acceptable for the oldest ladies to drink. They were ensconced in marriage and long past caring. None of the eligible ladies drank unless it was with their meal, nor did they smoke. Instead they sat tittering behind their fans about how fine Lord so-and-so’s calves were. This laced up civility was no place for a Beast. 

“Hyacinth,” the Queen called out to her. She ignored her and slipped out on to the veranda. The Beast ripped the wig off with a painful sprinkle of pins and a sigh of relief. She was tapping tobacco into the bowl of her pipe, when she spotted a small boy in lilac knickerbockers. He gawped up at her with wide brown eyes that flicked from her face to the pipe in her hand and back again. 

“Are you a man?” he asked. 

“Whenever was the last time you saw a man in a dress?”

“Never.”

“Go away,” she shooed him off and he ran away giggling.

She took a drag of the pipe and ran a hand absent-mindedly through her short hair. The rain dripped from the roof of the veranda. She watched as sheets of rain blew over the lawns. It was quite chilly. She wished she’d brought a cloak out with her.  
One of the doors opened and Lord Frilly-Knickers stepped out. 

“For Heaven’s sake,” she muttered. “Can’t I have a moments peace?”

He had a cloak over his shoulder, “You must be cold – Good Lord,” he gasped, scandalised to see her smoking. “It’s a disgusting habit for a woman.”

“But not for a man?” she retorted, observing his pipe held delicately between his long fingers.

“You’re more feminine that I am,” she flicked the end of his wig. 

“Here. I bought you this,” Frilly-Knickers looked unperturbed and held out the cloak. She reached out to take it but he said, “No, let me.” 

He shook out the brown wool fabric and made a show of chivalry in wrapping it around her. He even tried to tie the ribbons under her chin like she was a child. She knocked his hands away and stepped back. She was conscious of how close he was, his bitter breath on her face and she was afraid he might try to kiss her. Not that she’d let him get away with that. She took another drag on her pipe to calm her nerves.

“Hello cousin,” George appeared with a wink much like his fathers, “Scandalising another suitor are we?” He took Frilly-Knickers hand in his own and shook it briefly. “George Havering, good to meet you man,” he turned back to speak to the Beast. 

“Now Beastie, I’m sure I don’t have to ask you twice for a game of cards.”

The Beast looked between the two men. 

“Actually cousin, I think I will play my Lord,” her stomach squirmed. 

“Good Lord,” he said again.

“That’s your favourite saying isn’t it?” she remarked scathingly.

“Nobody told me you gamble on top of everything else,” Frilly-Knickers followed them through the smoking room. 

“Oh yes indeed sir, for money and everything,” the Beast led both men, through the double door into the panelled games room. The boys in blue and peach came running up behind Frilly-Knickers like well-trained dogs.

“Come on, please tell me you at least dabble?” 

“Of course I do and I win all the time. All the time. Tell her.”

Behind him his friends nodded in agreement, “all the time.”

“Just last week he almost –” the boy in blue nudged his fellow in peach and continued for him, “Last week he won forty pounds from Lord Gablethwaite in a game of gin rummy.”

“Then I’m glad you hear you aren’t a complete lost cause,” she laughed. “Jumping snakes? How much are we playing for?”

“Go big or go home I always say,” Frilly-knickers picked up his cards. 

“Let’s say forty pounds then,” she smiled, wondering if he would take the bait. She shuffled the cards as they bartered and began to deal.

“Forty?”

“You said go big or go home.”

“Oh, yes, yes I did...but,” seemingly struck by some kind of macho inspiration he sat up, squaring his shoulders, putting on a blatant show and said, “I was thinking more like fifty.”

“Alright then,” she laid fifty pounds out of the table and held out her hand. Tarquin shook it and looked rather smug. “Fifty it is.”

“She rarely loses any more –,” said George. 

“That reminds me,” she said, counting cards out onto the table, “you owe me five pounds.”

“Rather takes the fun out of it if you ask me,” grinned George taking a five pound bank bill from the inside of his fine cream jacket and handing it to her.

“Yet you always come back for more.” 

“Oh erm. In that case perhaps forty is more than enough?” asked Frilly-Knickers having second thoughts. 

“No no, we simply cannot allow you to change the wager,” George sucked in his teeth in mock concern, “You’ve agreed to it now. You shook hands and everything.”

Behind him the boy in peach lace gripped his shoulders and rubbing them firmly said, “He’s right but you can do this Tark. We play jumping snakes all the time.”

“It’s a girl’s game,” added the boy in blue pointedly. If they wanted her to take everything he had, they were going the right way about it. The Beast smiled. She played best when she was pissed off.

“Come on now Tarquin...darling...” she said laying it on thick; her voice all cream and honey like the filling of a luscious cake. “I’m just a girl after all.”

“Um. Of course. Absolutely. You can go first.”

He really had no idea how to play strategically. The person who played first; much like in chess always had a slight advantage. She beat him in six turns, correctly guessing all the imposter ‘snake’ cards in his hands.

“Damn it woman.”

“Pay up,” she grinned. He counted out the money once licking his finger between each page. Then he looked at her before counting it out again.

“Come on,” she laughed at him, “One does not have all day.” 

Finally he handed over the money. She folded it up and tucked it down the front of her corset, between her breasts. His eyes narrowed and he muttered something that sounded mildly insulting. Then Frilly-knickers clicked his fingers at a passing waiter who poured a glass of whiskey for him. 

“Leave the bottle,” he told the waiter without removing his gaze from her. 

“So want to win it back then?” her teeth bit into her smile and her eye brows were raised, challenging him to try again.

“Deal. Thirty five.”

Around the table a small crowd of men formed, including their fathers. Beast briefly wondered how her Mother was trying to explain to Tarquin’s mother where she was. What would the marchioness say when she heard her son’s fiancee was gambling in the men’s smoking room?

This time she beat him in five turns. He knew she had him before they lay their cards down for the whole room to see.

“It’s alright son,” laughed the Marquis, who was an older, balding version of his son. “You’ll get all that back and then some once you’re married.” 

If they get married, thought the Beast, rolling her eyes. 

“Third time lucky?” she asked.

“I need some fresh air,” Frilly-knickers said looking visibly flustered now. He downed his drink and stood up to go.

“What a splendid idea!” the Beast wasn’t going to let him get off that easily. “Why don’t we go for a ride?”

“Oh yes,” the Beast’s father agreed. “It’ll give you the perfect chance to become better acquainted.”

Frilly-knickers looked uncertain for a moment, and then fixed a winning smile in place.  
“Go,” Marquis boomed, slapping Frilly-Knickers on the back. “Have fun. Let us old men iron out the dowry for the marriage.”

“So what kind of horse did you bring?” the Beast asked as they strolled out across the court yard.

“I didn’t. Bring one I mean.”

“Who on earth goes out without their horse?” she scoffs at him. “Don’t you ride?”

“Of course I ride when I have to,” he admitted as they made their way down to the stables. He looked down his nose at her and added, “I simply see myself as more of a scholar than an outdoor type.”

Oh la-di-dah.

They approached the wide opening of the stone stables and strode inside. This was one of her favourite places. The ceiling was high, held up with dusty oak beams, from which ropes, saddles, bits and riding whips were hung. The boys kept the place clean with a fresh layer of straw over the floor. All the same a mild smell of dung constantly prevailed mixed with the warm scent of horse hair.  
“In that case, I’ve got just the horse for you,” she led him to a beautiful white horse in the last stall who was shaking her head, snorting and stomping her hooves and kicking the stall door with booming thumps like canon fire. “This is Diablo.” she shouted over the noise.

“That’s quite a name for a horse. Doesn’t she seems rather angry to you?” he called back looking apprehensive. 

“Oh no, not at all,” the Beast leapt forward to stoke the horses mane. Diablo tossed her hand off. Her eyes were was black as the pits of hell and as wide as pennies. This was going to be such a lark. “She’s just eager to get out that’s all. They get restless being in all day, just like you or I.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” 

She crossed the room to pet Hornet and climbed on her back in one swift motion. She watched curiously as he took a deep breath. His face was terribly pale. He saw her watching and flashed her a weak smile. 

“You there,” ordered Frilly-Knickers, “don’t just stand there watching.” 

A stable boy came forward from the shadows to hold her reins steady for him. He tried to stroke her nuzzle but tossed his small hand aside like a fly. The boy let his hand fall and watched Frilly-knickers in silent fascination. 

Finally Frilly-knickers scrambled up her side, swung a leg over, and came to a rest looking pleased with himself. It only lasted a split second for Diablo bucked; she thrust her legs out and her back arched up. She was trying to throw him off. His eyes were wide and his mouth gaped open, yelling, “wo girl wo,” then he slipped out of sight. 

“Are you alright sir?” called the stable boy.

He hobbled out, spitting out straw and pushing his wig out of his face. Bits of hay were sticking out of the frizzy curls and there was a streak of dirt down the side of his breeches. The Beast laughed so hard she had to bury her face in Hornet’s mane for a moment. The boy grinned sheepishly. Diabol’s ears were pinned back and her teeth were barred. She was really riled up.  
Since the Beast had had her fun she said, “This is a bad idea. Really, I’m sure we can find you a calm horse?”

“Oh no that won’t be necessary. I’ll manage,” Frilly-knickers dusted off his hands and waistcoat. 

“Of course you don’t ride side saddle,” he remarked disdainfully looking at the way she sat with her pink skirts and petticoats bunched up. 

“Ha! Riding side-saddle is for girls.”

“Everyone can see your ankles for goodness sake!”

“Oh no!” she feint a swoon, “Everyone can see my ankles!” she wailed as though she hadn’t ever considered this before. Giggling she wiggled her foot nearest him in mock seduction. “Do you like my ankles Lord Frilly-Knickers?”

“Yes, I rather believe I do,” he made to approach her. 

“Get on your horse,” she recoiled instantly, regretting the question. She had only meant to wind him up, “you have a wild filly to tame remember?” Did he think she was flirting with him when she was clearly mocking the foolish pillock?

He looked confused, possibly wondering if she meant the horse or herself. Clearly not wanting to be outdone, he straightened up, thrust out his chest in a show of machismo and struggled to mount Diablo once more. 

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want a different horse?” she asked him.

“Oh no that won’t be necessary. I think we are becoming good friends now.”

Diablo kicked the stall again as if to disagree.

Finally he mounted her and stayed upright. Diablo was chaffing at the bit and swung her head roughly from side to side.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” he said coldly, as though she hadn’t spent ten minutes waiting for him. She noticed his knuckles were already white from gripping the reins so hard. 

“Let’s go!” The Beast was off, charging over the lawns below the house.

*

The Princess traipsed back up to the palace looking mildly windswept. There was a delightful blush upon her cheeks. The whip of the wind as they rushed over the fields was always so refreshing.  
Frilly-Knickers on the other hand, knocked past her, looking like some creature from the black lagoon. His mint suit was now dark with water and awash with pond scum. His wig was askew and had bits of straw and pond weed sticking out of it. His buckled shoes squelched and as she watched him storm ahead one slipped off. In a fit of rage he ripped off the other and threw it across the lawn.  
“Whatever happened to you?” leaning up against the French doors, George was smoking his pipe.

“There is a frog in my hat,” Frilly-Knickers squealed, “it was made in Pari’ but the most esteemed milliner.” 

“Oh well now. Does this mean the wedding is off?” George grinned. Frilly-knickers huffed and slammed the glass door behind him dramatically. George raised his eyebrows at her.  
“How did he manage to fall in the lake?”  
“Well, who can say,” shrugged the Princess with a cheeky grin, holding her arms out wide. “Perhaps a wild filly with her own mind is too much for him after all.”

“Come on,” George chuckled, “this is going to cause a stir.” He held the door open for her.

“–She is an absolute ruffian,” Frilly-Knickers was ranting, “I haven’t a clue how you expect to pass such a creature off as a lady. I can’t possibly marry her.”

“Come on now my dear boy. I’m sure it was an accident. Just a bit of harmless fun,” her Father was trying to reason with the soggy Lord. “Have a bath, give it time, you’ll see the funny side.”

“The funny side?” he hiccoughed, speech almost failing him altogether. “Are you mad man?” He took a deep breath and said, “Father, Mother, we are going home! The wedding is off. Off I say!” The whole engagement party watched as he squelched off to his room. Then they turned in unison to see the Beast’s reaction.

“Who fancies a game of gin rummy?” she asked the room at large.

“Oh no you don’t,” the Queen stepped forward. “In light of this...fiasco I must have a private word with you.”

“Good luck,” muttered George in her ear.

“Why don’t we talk here Mother? Since everyone already knows our private affairs they might as well hear everything straight from the horses mouth.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” the Queen gripped her arm tightly so the Beast couldn’t throw her off and walked her from the room with a royal smile pinned to her graceless mouth. “Carry on everyone, you might as well enjoy yourselves.”

Out in the hallway the Queen loosened her grip and the Beast shook herself free.

“Come with me,” the Queen turned from the fight, infuriating the Beast who pursued her up the main stairs yelling as she went, no longer caring who heard. 

“You’re such a coward, you never want to talk about anything,” a paid of maids turned to face the wall as they passed them on the landing. One of the maid’s foolishly let a titter escape her lips.  
“And you can shut up!” spat the Beast over her shoulder. 

The sun was setting, casting long shadows throughout the palace. The Beast stalked her mother’s swooping shadow up the spiral staircase to her rooms in the West Wing. The study door banged against the stone wall. 

Mrs Potts looked startled. She was holding a teapot, “Sorry – I though ye –” 

“Leave now,” bellowed the Queen. Mrs Potts scurried from the room, her cheeks flushed. The moment the door closed behind the maid the Queen turned on her.  
“It was bad enough you didn’t touch a morsel – 

“I wasn’t hungry –”

“And then you left before the end of the meal–”

“It was only the tea and coffee!”

“You looked miserable the entire time.”

“What do you expect?” the Beast wailed, at her wits end.

“What I expect is for you to behave like a lady. How many times do I have to tell you to maintain your composure in company? What kind of example are you setting? You’re supposed to be our ambassador, what kind of woman do you think they think I’ve raised –?” 

“It’s not my fault I’m not like Leander,” she launched a figurine at her mother. She cast a barrier spell so it careered off course and smashed against the stone wall.

“For heaven’s sake not this again!”

“It’s not my fault she got sick. It’s not my fault I didn’t die instead of her,” she threw a candle stick. Again it bounced away from her mother and hit the wall. The Beast was too angry to care. She started grabbing anything and everything within reach chucking it all haphazardly at her mother. 

“It’s not my fault you hate me so much,” a clock hit wall showering them in cogs.

“You can’t have her back and you can’t change me,” a jar of goo cartwheeled through the air, the glass shattered and the green substance slid down the stone. 

“So just stop! Stop!” the Beast roared, spit flying from her mouth as the shrunken head bounced away never to be seen again. 

“Enough,” the Queen closed the space between them and took her wrists. She whispered, “I’ll stop when you stop behaving like such an animal.”

The Beast ducked out from behind her. She took Leander’s amulet from the mantle piece and breathing hard; her chest rising and falling, she held the necklace at arms length over the fire. 

“Stop!” the Queen froze eyeing her carefully.

“You might not care about me,” the Beast sneered. “But this’ll do the trick won’t it? Promise me you won’t force me to get married or I’ll chuck it in the fire – I swear I will – I’ll break it.” 

“You wouldn’t dare. Hyacinth. Don’t you dare,” the Queen lunged forward, reaching for the amulet. She cast a summoning spell, but the Beast grasped the warm chain tightly it only swung towards her like a pendulum. 

“Don’t call me Hyacinth!”

“It has power beyond –” she tried to snatch the pendent from her fingers but the Beast was too quick. She tossed the necklace into the flames.

“No no no,” moaned the Queen. She was on her knees trying to see the pedant. She attempted a summoning spell but nothing happened. “You’ve broken it. You ruin everything you touch!”  
After a moment the Queen climbed to her feet. “Very well. You’ve forced my hand...you’ve forced my hand," she seemed to be talking to herself as much as to the Beast. The colour had drained from her face and there was a mad gleam in her eyes. “You’ve only got yourself to blame,” she staggered away.

“Now its broken perhaps you’ll let me keep something that belonged to my sister,” the Beast panted, her chest heaving. If there was anything left, she thought bitterly.  
The Queen didn’t seem to hear her. She had turned away and was now rummaging in a draw under the table. Her sudden change of pace and the queer look on her face was unsettling. The Beast asked her what she was doing. The Queen ignored her and pulled a vial of red liquid from the draw.

“Is that blood?” she asked her aghast.

“I want you to know this hurts me more than it hurts you,” the Queen’s grabbed the book from the table and began to read fast in a high shaking voice. Her chest rose and fell, her eyes were dark and wild looking. “I curse thee so that thy inside should be reflected on your visage. I curse thee to a life a cursed life, a forever life, lifted only upon the time you find true love and respect.”

She picked up the tiny vial of dark red blood and smashed it on the floor between their feet. It splattered the hem of the Beast’s pink dress. They simply stood there, visibly shaking and glaring at one another. Nothing happened. The blood on her hem dripped sluggishly onto the floor. 

“What was that supposed to do?” scoffed the Beast. She knew her mother’s magic never stuck to her for long, but even for her this was a pathetic piece of sorcery.

Copious amounts of thick blood red smoke issued from the fireplace. The Beast coughed. She covered her mouth and nose and stepped back. It seemed to follow her, enveloping her. The cough was becoming a fit, making her eyes stream. Unable to see she bumped into something hard. Gasping for breath, she tugged at the bindings of her corset, desperately trying to rip it off. Her organs felt like lead and her skin began to prickle all over, inside and out; a feeling so intense it was like a hundred-thousand needle paper cuts. Such terrible burning pain in her chest. Her heart beat against her ribs. She doubled over clutching her chest. Her ribs cracked. Her muscles spasmed. It felt like her beating heart was being ripped from her chest. She couldn’t see anything but the arterial thick red smoke swirling around her. She swore she was being stabbed; she was bleeding to death. She was going to die curled up in the red dark… in the dark...alone.

Eventually the pain subsided. The wreck of the pink dress lay in a ragged heap on the floor. The Beast was crouched on the floor. Her whole body was shaking.  
The smoke began to disperse… The Beast could see her mother now. The Queen gasped, recoiling in horror.

“What have you done to me?” the Beast roared like a caged lion, the sound reverberated all around them making the floor shake. The Queen sunk to the floor in despair and the Beast leapt from the room with a howling sob.

High in the centre of the room a large blood red rose the size of a heart hoovered, emitting a peculiar ethereal glow.


End file.
